Transcultural Europe: Cultural Policy in a Changing Europe

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Transcultural Europe Cultural Policy in a Changing Europe

Edited by

Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou

Transcultural Europe

Also by Ulrike Hanna Meinhof TEXT, DISCOURSE AND CONTEXT: Representations of Poverty in Britain (co-editor with K. Richardson) MASCULINITY AND LANGUAGE (co-editor with S. Johnson) LANGUAGE LEARNING IN THE AGE OF SATELLITE TELEVISION WORLDS IN COMMON? Television Discourses in a Changing Europe (co-editor with K. Richardson) INTERTEXTUALITY AND THE MEDIA (co-editor with J. Smith) LIVING (WITH) BORDERS THE LANGUAGE OF BELONGING (co-author with Dariusz Galasinski) ´

Also by Anna Triandafyllidou NEGOTIATING NATIONHOOD IN A CHANGING EUROPE: Views from the Press IMMIGRANTS AND NATIONAL IDENTITY IN EUROPE MULTICULTURALISM, MUSLIMS AND CITIZENSHIP: A European Approach (co-editor) EUROPEANISATION, NATIONAL IDENTITIES AND MIGRATION: Changes in Boundary Constructions between Western and Eastern Europe (co-editor)

Transcultural Europe Cultural Policy in a Changing Europe Edited by

Ulrike Hanna Meinhof University of Southampton, UK

and

Anna Triandafyllidou European Institute, Florence, Italy and ELIAMEP, Athens, Greece

Editorial matter and selection © Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou 2006 Individual chapters © contributors 2006 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2006 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 9781403997128 ISBN-10: 1403997128 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Transcultural Europe : cultural policy in a changing Europe / edited by Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 1403997128 (cloth) 1. European Union countries“Cultural policy. I. Meinhof, Ulrike Hanna. II. Triandafyllidou, Anna. D1055.T74 2006 306.094“dc22 2005056480 10 9 15 14

8 7 13 12

6 5 4 3 2 1 11 10 09 08 07 06

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents

List of Figures

vii

Acknowledgements

viii

Notes on the Contributors

ix

Part I Cultural Policy in Europe: An Overview of Issues 1 Transcultural Europe: An Introduction to Cultural Policy in a Changing Europe Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou

3

2 The Logic of Europeanizing Cultural Policy Monica Sassatelli

24

3 Imagined or Real Divides? Milena Dragićević Šešić and Sanjin Dragojević

43

4 Perspectives on Cultural Diversity: A Discourse-Analytical Approach Nadia Kiwan and Ulrike Hanna Meinhof

57

Part II Urban and Metropolitan Perspectives 5 London and the Project of Urban Cosmopolitanism Asu Aksoy 6 The ‘Whiteness’ of Cultural Policy in Paris and Berlin Nadia Kiwan and Kira Kosnick

85 105

7 Despite and Beyond Cultural Policy: Third and FourthSector Practices and Strategies in Vienna and Belgrade Martina Böse, Brigitta Busch and Milena Dragićević Šešić

131

8 Urban Cultural Policy and Immigrants in Rome: Multiculturalism or Simply ‘Paternalism’? Ankica Kosic and Anna Triandafyllidou

157

v

vi

Contents

Part III Transnational and Transcultural Connections 9

Challenge of Migrants for a New Take on Europe Asu Aksoy

10

Beyond the Diaspora: Transnational Practices as Transcultural Capital Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou

200

Three Nexal Registers: Identity, Peripheral Cultural Industries and Alternative Cultures Nikola Janović and Rastko Moˇcnik

223

Towards a Transcultural Policy For European Cosmopolitanism Kevin Robins

254

11

12

Index

181

285

List of Figures 11.1 Cultural agents according to their orientation (profit/culture) and structural position (mainstream/marginal) 11.2 Argumentation procedure in the utterance 11.3 Typology of cultural production 11.4 Relations among types of cultural production

vii

224 235 241 242

Acknowledgements The research on which this book is based was supported by a three-year grant from the EU Fifth Framework (Changing City Spaces HPSE-CT2002-00133). This grant allowed us to form a consortium of researchers, conduct collaborative research in and across seven capital cities in Europe, to meet and share our ideas, compare our findings and challenge each others’ understanding. We want to express our warmest thanks to the European Commission for having given us this unique opportunity, and to our Scientific Officer Aris Appolonatos for his support. Our deepest thanks goes to the many different people across Europe who generously shared with us their expertise, their knowledge and their experiences in interviews and conversations, gave us access to files and archives, and in general supported the principles on which our research was based. There were too many to allow us to list them all personally, so we can only express a more general sense of our appreciation of their willingness to share their time with us. They included policy-makers at municipal and national level, but also many artists, cultural promoters and media professionals; and last but not least, members of different kinds of ‘publics’ at concerts, exhibitions, film showings and other kinds of performances. U LRIKE H ANNA M EINHOF A NNA T RIANDAFYLLIDOU

viii


Asu Aksoy is a Research Associate at Goldsmiths College, University of London. She was recently involved in research within the context of the UK Economic and Social Research Council’s Transnational Communities programme, examining the implications of reception of transnational television by Turkish migrant communities in Europe. She has coordinated an international networking project looking at transnational cinema in Europe. Dr Aksoy presently works within the EU Framework Five programme. She has written extensively on questions of transnational television, on Turkish cinema, Turkish migrant culture in Europe, in both English and Turkish. Martina Böse is a research assistant at the Centre for Discourse, Politics and Identity at the University of Vienna. She completed a PhD in sociology on racism and exclusion in the cultural economy at Manchester Metropolitan University. Her research interests and publications focus on exclusion and racism in the field of employment, in particular in the cultural industries. Selected publications include ‘Difference and exclusion at work in the club culture economy’, International Journal of Cultural Studies (2005) and ‘Race and class in the “post-subculturalist” economy’, in David Muggleton/Rupert Weinzierl (eds), The Subcultures Reader (Berg, 2003). Brigitta Busch is a Senior Research Fellow at the Department of Applied Linguistics, University of Vienna. Between 1999 and 2003 she was the head of the Centre for Intercultural Studies at the University of Klagenfurt. During her work as an expert for the Council of Europe’s Confidence-Building Measures Programme, she was involved in a number of intercultural projects in Eastern and South-Eastern Europe. Recent publications include Sprachen im Disput. Medien und Öffentlichkeit in multilingualen Gesellschaften (Drava, 2004); Der virtuelle Dorfplatz. Minderheitenmedien, Globaliserung und kulturelle Identität (Drava, 1999); and the edited volume (with B. Hipfl and K. Robins) Bewegte Identitäten. Medien in transkulturellen Kontexten (Drava, 2001). Milena Dragićević Šešić is Professor of Cultural Studies and Cultural Management at the University of Arts in Belgrade. She is chair of the ix

x


Art and Culture Board of the Soros foundation network. Publications include: Art and Alternative (FDU, Belgrade 1992); Neofolk Culture (Zoran Stojanovic, Novi Sad, 1994); Culture – Management, Animation, Marketing (CLIO, Belgrade, 4th edition 2004). Sanjin Dragojević teaches sociology of culture, sociology of mass communication and cultural policy at the Faculty for Political Sciences in Zagreb, and is a consultant for numerous international organizations in the fields of cultural policy and cultural management (UNESCO, Council of Europe, European Cultural Foundation). Published studies and essays have appeared in the review Culturelink (Zagreb), the Canadian Journal of Communication, and elsewhere. Nikola Janović is a Research Associate at the Department of Sociology, at the Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana. He studied Cultural Studies and the Sociology of Everyday Life at the Department of Cultural Studies at the University of Ljubljana. His research was focused on the Sociology of Religion: Coptic Orthodox Church, Ethiopian Orthodox Church and Rastafari movement. He has written his MA thesis on Popular Culture in which he explores the relation between commodity fetishism as ideology and production of everyday life. His recent research on the European Project Changing City Spaces: New Challenges to Cultural Policy in Europe focused on cultural flows, cultural experiences and multiculturalism across the European city spaces. His wider research interest is on theoretical sociology, contemporary cultural studies, Balkan studies, theory of ideology and contemporary mythology studies. He has published many articles and has also reviewed social science texts for the Quarterly Review edited by the Slovenian Sociological Association and the University of Ljubljana. Nadia Kiwan is a post-doctoral Research Fellow in the School of Humanities, University of Southampton. She wrote her doctoral thesis on the construction of socio-cultural experience amongst young people of North African origin in France. Recent publications include ‘Citizenship Education: The French and English Experiences’, co-authored with D. Kiwan, in Young People in Transition: Becoming Citizens, edited by Christopher Pole, Jane Pilcher and John Williams (Palgrave, 2004). Ankica Kosic obtained her PhD in social psychology at the Faculty of Psychology, University of Rome, La Sapienza, in 1999. In the period 1999–2001, she worked as a Research Fellow at La Sapienza. Since


xi

2001 she has been a Research Fellow at the European University Institute, Florence, where she has been involved in a number of large-scale research projects. Her research interests are in the area of immigrant integration, inter-group relationships, prejudice and social representation. She has published articles in Italian and international journals including the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Journal of Social Psychology and the International Journal of Psychology. Kira Kosnick is a postdoctoral research fellow at the University of Southampton. Trained as a sociologist and cultural anthropologist, she wrote her doctoral thesis on Turkish migrant broadcasting in Germany. Recent articles include ‘Ethnicising the Media: Multicultural Imperatives, Homebound Politics, and Turkish Media Production in Germany’, New Perspectives on Turkey (2003), and ‘ “Speaking in One’s Own Voice”: Representational Strategies of Alevi Turkish Migrants on Open-Access Television in Berlin’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies (2004). Ulrike Hanna Meinhof is Professor of German and Cultural Studies at the University of Southampton. She has directed a Fifth Framework Project on European Border Identities, and is currently coordinating Changing City Spaces: New Challenges to Cultural Policy in Europe. Publications include The Language of Belonging (Palgrave, 2005, with D. Galasinski); ´ ‘Bordering European Identities’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, Special Issue, ed. 2003; Living (with) Borders (Ashgate, ed., 2002); Africa and Applied Linguistics (ed., 2003, AILA Review, vol. 16 with S. Makoni); Intertextuality and the Media (2000, ed. with J. Smith, Manchester University Press); and Worlds in Common? Television Discourse in a Changing Europe (Routledge, with K. Richardson, 1990). Rastko Moˇcnik teaches theory of discourse and epistemology of the humanities and social sciences at the University of Ljubljana, Slovenia. He writes on the theory of ideology, discourse analysis, literary semiotics, and sociology of culture. Recent publications include: Alterkacije (XX. vek, Belgrade, 1998); Koliko fašizma? (Arkzin, Zagreb, 1998); Teorija za denešno vreme. Levi-Strauss, Mauss, Durkheim (Magor, Skopje, 1999); Zasreštanija: istorii, prehodi, vjarvanja (Panorama, Sofia, 2001); Teorija za politiko (Ljubljana, 2003); 3 teorije: ideologija, nacija, institucija (CSU, Belgrade, 2004). Kevin Robins is Professor of Communications, Goldsmiths College, University of London. He recently directed a project, funded by the UK

xii Notes on the Contributors

Economic and Social Research Council’s Transnational Communities programme, on Turkish migrant culture in Europe. Publications include Spaces of Identity (Routledge, 1995); Into the Image (Routledge, 1996); Times of the Technoculture (Routledge, 1999); and the edited British Cultural Studies (Oxford University Press, 2002). Monica Sassatelli is Jean Monnet Fellow at the Robert Schuman Centre of Advanced Studies, European University Institute, Florence. She has taught sociology of culture and of tourism in various Italian universities. Her recent publications include Identità, cultura, Europa. Le ‘Città europee della cultura’ (Angeli, 2005); Cultura urbana e identità europea, in Polis (2005); and ‘Everything Changes and Nothing Changes. Change, Culture and Identity in Contemporary Italian Social Theory’, in Handbook of Contemporary European Social Theory (ed. G. Delanty, Routledge, 2005). Anna Triandafyllidou is Research Fellow and Project Coordinator at the Robert Schuman Centre of Advanced Studies, European University Institute in Florence, Visiting Professor at the College of Europe in Bruges and Senior Fellow at ELIAMEP in Athens. She has held teaching and research positions at the University of Surrey, London School of Economics, CNR in Rome and New York University. Her recent publications include: Immigrants and National Identity in Europe (Routledge, 2001); Negotiating Nationhood in a Changing Europe. Views from the Press (Edwin Mellen Press, 2002) Europeanisation, National Identities and Migration (Routledge, 2003, co-editor). From 2003 she has been affiliated to the Hellenic Foundation of European and Foreign Policy, where from September 2004 she became a Senior Research Fellow.

Part I Cultural Policy in Europe: An Overview of Issues

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1 Transcultural Europe: An Introduction to Cultural Policy in a Changing Europe Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou

Europe at the eve of the twenty-first century The debate concerning European cultural policy – or what we prefer to call cultural policy in a changing Europe – came very much on to the agenda in the 1990s, in the context of what we may regard as a significant cultural turn in EU discourses. There was the sense at that time that the project of European unification could only move forward on the basis of a new kind of European cultural imagination. There were two directions in which the debate was to move. The first was in terms of the construction of a pan-European cultural space, and the possibility of creating a common European culture and identity. This integrationist agenda was associated with the enlargement of European cultural markets and spaces, as, for example, in the media policy for ‘television without frontiers’. The other direction in which thinking moved was towards a new regionalist agenda, with the slogan of a ‘Europe of the regions’, with the emphasis being put on the idea of Europe as a rich cultural mosaic, and on the idea of ‘unity in diversity’. At the heart of the unfolding debates, along both of these lines of thinking, was the issue of national cultures, which have, of course, been the primary frame of reference in which cultural policy agendas have been elaborated in modern Europe. How, it was being asked, might cultural policy now be re-framed in a context in which national objectives were no longer self-evidently the ‘natural’ priority? A challenge was thus made to the taken-for-grantedness of the old national policy frame in Europe. But the ‘Euro’ alternatives did not emerge as engaging or convincing alternatives. First, the national frame remained at the centre of the cultural imaginaire. The European regionalist agenda really amounted to little more than a more complex version 3

4

Introduction

of the nation-state agenda – a programme for a Europe of the small nations. And the project for a pan-European cultural space represented an attempt to reinvent Europe in terms of an enlarged nation-state – often decried by its critics as a superstate, as ’Fortress Europe’. Second, the idea of Europe and Europeanness that was being put forward was a rather problematical one, grounded in the idea of a European identity deriving from Greek, Roman and Christian cultures. Such a conception was in its nature exclusionary, with respect to both the societies on the Eastern and Southern edges of Europe and the migrant populations that had come to constitute a significant factor in the internal demography of Europe. What were being put forward, then, were essentially proposals for the construction of a small, unitary and defensive European community. This attempt to re-imagine Europe was flawed. What was being proposed was a cultural agenda that was inadequate to the complexity of what Europe had actually become. A decade on from this discourse of European Union, things have moved on and perhaps there are now new conditions of possibility for re-thinking cultural policy in Europe (rather than a European cultural policy). Now, in the early twenty-first century, the cultural diversity in the continent has become even more apparent. Central to contemporary debates are the issues of transnational flows and migrations across the European space, both regular and irregular. The issue of enlargement is complicating old assumptions not only about potential differences between Western and Central Eastern Europe, but also about the location and boundary of Europe itself. Here the so-called European future of Turkey adds new complexities to the debate. However, it is not only the contours of the EU that are at stake today but also its substance. Do European governments and citizens want a more political Europe or more of a European market without the politics nor the cultural aspects of integration. And if a European polity is what we aim at, what kind of polity should this be? The recent political crisis over the French and Dutch referenda of May and June 2005 and the French and Dutch voters’ rejection of the future EU Constitutional Treaty is revealing in this respect. Right and left-wing voters and activists seem to agree that the EU has taken the wrong direction, albeit they disagree on their motivations. The rightwing parties argue that more political integration means less control of national affairs, too much diversity, too much flexibility and openness towards migration, a loss of identity and one’s own cultural traditions. The Left argues that a No vote is a warning that the EU is taking too

Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou 5

neo-liberal a direction. According to this view, EU discourses and policies place too much emphasis on free competition, the self-regulation of the market, the need for flexible labour and the urge to limit and rationalize welfare services. The partisans of a Yes vote see the Constitution as a way forward that guarantees more political integration, more stability and cohesion within the EU, more efficient institutional mechanisms for European governance. They also argue that, contrary to what the left-wing No voters say, the Constitutional Treaty emphasizes human rights and a set of social and political values that makes the EU stand out as a pole of social justice, security and freedom, an alternative to the US model of excessive individualism and free market competition. The fervent discussion that has (re-)started about what the EU is and should be and what is the way forward has important implications for the planned further enlargements of the Union. Rumours suggest that even Romania and Bulgaria may see a delay in their planned date of entry (2007), while the issue of Turkey and that of Croatia and the Western Balkan countries are being re-considered. Some politicians argue that part of the No voters discontent comes from the subsequent enlargements of the EU rather than from internal problems. Others argue that the ‘Euro teuro’ (the rise in the cost of living after the introduction of the common currency), unemployment and the crisis of the welfare state are the main citizens’ concerns rather than cultural or identity issues related to further Eastern enlargements.1 In any case, one thing is clear, Europe looks a more complicated place than its elites would have thought less than a year ago, when they approved the text of the Constitutional Treaty. It now needs a cultural imagination adequate to this complexity and the new challenges of the future. This book aims to address key issues in the cultural configuration of the European space, taking account of the new cultural policy questions opening up in the changing European space. It will look at the recent developments that are complicating the cultural realities of contemporary Europe. Our intention is not to provide a survey of what is happening across the European space, but to try to pick up on what seem to be new and interesting developments, where possibilities might exist for pushing forward cultural policy thinking. We therefore emphasize the transcultural flows within and between some major European metropoles (for example Berlin, London and Paris), the rather closed realities of other European capitals (like Rome or Ljubljana) as well as new cultural trends emerging in cities both at the heart and at the periphery of Europe (for example Vienna and Belgrade). We question the relationship

6 Introduction

between cultural diversity, cultural policy and immigration; we try to highlight its national limitations as well as its transnational dynamics. Our aim is to critically address the way in which cultural policy has evolved until now, and also to develop new conceptual and theoretical perspectives for thinking about cultural change and complexity. Of course, the term cultural policy itself is ambiguous, since it is not selfevident what precisely the notion of ‘culture’ encompasses, especially if one regards some of the ‘false friends’ which appear in seemingly synonymous terms in translation (for example German ‘Kultur’ or French ‘culture’ or also the ambiguity of the Greek language on this matter as the terms ‘oo’ (politismos) (which literally means civilization) and ‘Koou ’ (koultoura) are sometimes used interchangeably. As will become clear in the discussion of the various chapters, our understanding of cultural policy takes the very broad definition of the term in the English language, whereby it addresses not only policies directed at the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement, but also those policies which affect the way of life of a group or groups of people in Europe. Cultural policy in a ‘transcultural Europe’ therefore engages not only with questions of artistic expression made possible as a result of the confluence and flows of diverse populations, but also with questions of their coexistence in the geo-social spaces of European society. This book is innovative and aims to provoke discussion about the way forward for cultural policy in Europe. The innovative nature of the book derives from a number of aspects of our common approach. As opposed to conventional approaches that take as their frame of reference the nation-state and national cultural policy, this book sets out to address questions of cultural policy from an urban and metropolitan perspective. It does so by combining theoretical approaches with detailed studies of a wide range of policy documents. It also draws on interviews we conducted with policy-makers, and with many of those people who are the agents in the cultural life of European capital cities: artists, art promoters and media professionals. What we argue is that the city provides an arena in which to think about and experience cultural policy on a more complex and complicated basis. Cities are places of cultural encounter, in which issues of cultural and intercultural relations are posed more intensely. We are concerned very centrally with the issue of cultural diversity, and have as a core concern the significance of migrant populations living in European cities. This includes consideration of post-colonial migrants, but also the new global migrants that began to arrive in significant


numbers in the 1990s. Rather than focusing only on the European Union, this book also seeks to address the relationship between Western and Eastern Europe, which has been a relation of cultural inequality, but one that is potentially being recast in the context of EU enlargement. Whilst we aim to contribute to policy thinking in the wider Europe, we are also seeking to develop a more reflexive approach to policy – an anthropology of policy-making – both at the transnational level (for example through looking at the workings of policy ’machines’ like the European Commission and the Council of Europe) and at the local level of municipalities and regions. We are concerned with culture, not as something static and grounded in a particular location, but as a mobile and dynamic phenomenon. The concept of nexus is used to invoke the complex and varied kinds of interactions that are occurring between places and social groups, which go beyond the national framework of territory and policy-making. Our aim in this introductory chapter is to establish the contemporary context for this book by discussing a number of issues that are related to cultural policy in Europe today. First, we shall briefly comment on the crisis of multiculturalism that seems to dominate public and political discourses in both ‘new’ and ‘old’ immigration countries. Second, we shall discuss the emerging politics of securitization, of securitization of migration, in particular, and its repercussions on a policy and politics of cultural diversity at the national and European level. Against this background we shall discuss, in the third section below, the transnational and transcultural realities that exist and even thrive in several European cities. We shall thus highlight the opposing tendencies that characterize culture and cultural policy in Europe today. The chapter will conclude with a brief presentation of the contents of this volume.

The crisis of multiculturalism2 After the relative prominence of theoretical debates and developments surrounding multicultural citizenship and policy in the 1990s, we witness today a change of direction. The governments of several ‘old’ immigration hosts like the Netherlands, Britain or France are tempted to adopt assimilationist approaches as a best way towards integration, to counteract what they perceive as a (relative) failure of their former multicultural policies. New hosts such as Italy and ‘older’ hosts such as Germany or Austria that did not consider themselves as immigration countries find it even harder to adopt a multicultural approach, even if political elites recognize the need to integrate immigrants as citizens.

8 Introduction

As a political ideal, multiculturalism means ’equal opportunity accompanied by cultural diversity, in an atmosphere of mutual tolerance’. Multiculturalism in general is defined in terms of public acceptance of immigrants and minority groups as distinct groups or communities, which are distinguishable from the majority with regard to language, culture and social behaviour; and which have their own associations and social infrastructure (European Commission, 2003). Multiculturalism implies that members of such groups should be granted equal rights in all spheres of society, without being expected to give up their diversity, although usually with an expectation of conformity to certain key values. It is this combination of recognition of cultural diversity and measures to ensure social equality that is the essential feature of multiculturalism. Importantly immigrants are perceived as active participants in consolidating multicultural processes. Multiculturalism debates and measures have already been developed in some European countries such as Sweden, the Netherlands and the UK since the 1970s. During the 1990s, theoretical debates about multicultural citizenship and multicultural policy developments have become prominent in most European countries as well as in the United States, Canada and Australia. However, at the turn of the twenty-first century, multicultural approaches to citizenship experienced a downturn. In Britain, as Kiwan and Meinhof show in this volume, the terms in which the debate is cast are often disputed and contradictory, with multiculturalism and cultural diversity in some contexts being used as synonymous or, in others, as distinctive models. In spite of this general acceptance of a British multicultural model, the need for a review and appraisal of immigrant related policies became apparent already in the late 1990s. The Runnymede Trust produced several reports which warned of widespread Islamophobia which could undermine the future of a multi-ethnic Britain (Runnymede Trust 1997, 2000, 2004). The idea that Britain is a ‘community of communities’ has been reiterated, seeking to ascertain not only individual rights and liberties, but also recognizing group cultures and collective rights. More recently, the multiculturalism debate has been re-opened with regard to the role and policy of the state towards arranged or even forced marriages between minors and towards the establishment of faith schools. Obviously answers to such claims and the implementation of related policies are not simple matters. The overall debate in Britain has also raised for the first time the issue of a minimum cultural integration of immigrants in British society, considering, for instance, the question of language fluency.


Similar debates about the basis of immigrant integration have been taking place in France in the same period. These debates have been going on for more than a decade, triggered initially by the famous ‘headscarf affair’ in 1989. More recently, the debate has become particularly heated after the passing of a law banning the use of ostentatious religious symbols in public places (public schools in particular) in March 2004, as well as the establishment of the Conseil Français du Culte Musulman (CFCM) in April 2003 as a means to give institutional legitimacy to French Muslims (Kastoryano, 2005). In Germany, on the other hand, while multiculturalism still remains a highly disputed option for migrant integration, several steps have been taken in recent years to encourage the socio-political integration of longterm immigrants, relaxing the rules of naturalization and acknowledging that Germany is indeed an immigration country. These changes started in the year 2000 with the new law on citizenship, were followed by a new bill on migration that was voted in 2002 but later annulled by a Constitutional Court decision that judged it unconstitutional.3 Recent studies on the implementation of naturalization policies show that Turks are the group most willing to naturalize by comparison to other large immigrant groups like Italians or citizens of former Yugoslavia (Diehl and Blomm, 2003). However, Schiffauer (2005) shows that national authorities exert a high level of discretion, for example, in excluding from citizenship individuals who have been active in Muslim organizations, regardless of whether such organizations were legal and moderate in their political orientations. The landscape is gloomier in Austria where the rise of the Freedom Party of Austria (FPÖ) during the last decade, the political dominance of this party in Southern Austria, and many incidents of xenophobia and racism have left little room for the emergence of a multiculturalism debate and policy approach. On the contrary, migration is now managed through seasonal labour schemes that are allowed to deviate from the normal labour laws of Austria. Immigrant integration as a policy has become a controversial topic despite the rich multicultural environment of Vienna (Jandl and Kraler, 2003). In European countries, where migration is a more recent phenomenon, such as in Italy and even more so in Slovenia, multiculturalism has yet to take roots as a concrete policy approach. Italian political elites have recognized that immigrants are there to stay and need to be integrated. Related discourses in the media and among political and religious elites have concentrated on whether immigrants should be given the right to vote. While several Italian regions enable immigrants to vote in local

10 Introduction

and regional elections, others do not. The issue of immigrant voting in national elections remains a taboo. At the same time, naturalization policies are very restrictive (Kosic and Triandafyllidou, 2005). Debates have also developed with regard to religious freedom and the respect for religious diversity. While these principles are clear in theory, they are harder to follow in practice. It remains a contested issue whether Muslims should be enabled to establish proper mosques rather than informal places of worship (Triandafyllidou, 2005b). At the beginning of the twenty-first century, multicultural citizenship debates appear to experience a decline or at least a reorganization as, on one hand, the drawbacks and weaknesses of established models (like the French or the British) have become obvious, and, on the other hand, ‘new hosts’ are still very hesitant to embrace a multiculturalism policy approach. This turn away from multiculturalism and towards civic and cultural assimilation models has been triggered not only by national factors (increasing migration and asylum flows, related moral panics in the media, ineffective integration policies, alienation of immigrant populations, the rise of extreme right-wing parties) but also by international ones, notably through a generalized concern of Western countries with security. This security debate clearly identifies the enemy that endangers ‘our’ security, namely the ‘international terrorist actions’ of ‘Muslim fundamentalists’. In the following section, we shall consider briefly the main features of this ‘security first’ approach that has dominated European policy and politics during the past few years.

‘Security first’ The crisis of multiculturalism outlined above comes at a time of heightened security awareness as a result of the September 11 events in New York and their aftermath. This upsurge of international terrorism has led to the increasing securitization of migration agendas. Even though suspected terrorists are apparently to be found among the educated, middle-class, legal immigrants – the ‘good’ kind of immigrants that Western societies and economies have been competing for in the past decade – the argument of terrorism is now used in the policy debate to justify tougher controls of migration in general. Such controls violate – in the name of security– basic individual rights of EU citizens and third-country nationals alike. Nonetheless, there is little evidence that undocumented migrants that illegally cross the borders of EU member states and work in their shadow economies,


11

gradually settling down and eventually regularizing their status, are among the suspects for highly sophisticated terrorist attacks of the 9/11 kind. Migration issues are often linked to a sense of ‘threat’. In immigration countries, migrants are seen to pose a threat to ‘our’ jobs, income, culture, public order and lifestyle. Indeed, in migration debates migration is often represented as a challenge to the welfare state of the receiving society and as a threat to the national culture and public order. In sum, migration is defined as a ‘danger’ to society (Bigo, 1994, 1996). This sense of threat that accompanies migration is perhaps inherent in the nature of national states and societies where ethnic and territorial boundaries must coincide. Migrants are an ‘abnormality’ for the national order (Sayad, 1991). The current upsurge of international terrorism and the related security debate has conveniently built upon the former ‘threat’ discourse related to migration, establishing a link between migration, international terrorism and ‘our’ sense of security. It is publicly convenient to dramatize the link between international migration and security. Such a link offers holistic explanations to two complex societal issues. Migration is a multifaceted phenomenon with important social, economic, cultural and political repercussions for both the sending and the receiving societies. International security, and its main enemy, international terrorism, are equally complex issues because they require deep knowledge of global and regional politics, of specific sub-cultures that characterise terrorist movements and an understanding of the conditions that may act as a catalyst for potential terrorists to become actual perpetrators of terrorism acts. However, as both international terrorism and migration involve the crossing of state borders and the juxtaposition between what is ‘ours’, well-known, familiar and what is ‘out there’, alien to ‘us’, unfamiliar and often opposed to ‘our’ way of life, a link between the two appears nearly automatic. Thus, international migration becomes ultimately a security matter. Security has become not only the nodal point where international terrorism and international migration meet, but also the primary concern of governments. Security acquires a meaning when it is contested or threatened. It involves, by definition, the recognition of a threat and of a threatening ‘Other’. In the post-Cold War context, when the dominant threatening Other, the ‘Eastern bloc’ has been dismantled and economic and political cooperation has replaced the armaments’ competition, ‘the West’, and Europe in particular, have been left without important threatening others against whom to reassert their sense of identity and security.

12 Introduction

The 9/11 events have offered a convenient and compelling solution to the lack of significant ‘Others’ (Triandafyllidou, 1999). Immigrants, and in particular Muslim immigrants, have become the main suspects of internal and external ‘threat’. In political and in media debates a self-evident link has been constructed, which connects the Taliban, bin-Laden, Saddam Hussein, his followers and a few other extremist Islamic organizations with one another, and at the same time all or some of these ‘extremists’ with international migration in general. The new Others have not only been found in distant countries like Afghanistan or Iraq. Some of the new threatening Others – suspected members of the Taliban militia – were identified as British citizens or legal residents in France or Germany. Their suspected collaborators have been intercepted in Spain, Italy and France. Thus, the link has not only been ‘proven’ true but it also provided a convenient rationale for disapproving of multiculturalism and immigration. Hence in public and media discourse, Muslim immigrants and Muslim citizens have been conveniently demonized. Many problems and challenges are thus subsumed in a Manichaean view of the world which polarizes ‘good and innocent (Western) victims’ and ‘bad and dangerous Muslim perpetrators’. In any case, the ‘problem’ lies with ‘them’, the ‘Muslims’, and not with ‘us’. Threat and the control of threat, the reestablishment of security and order are powerful sources of cohesion within society. Especially when fear is objectless and vague, and when genuine links between migration and international terrorism, ethno-national conflict, drug trafficking, organized crime are hard to document. Hence politicians can make bold statements without proving them, but equally without having to face counter-evidence. In this securitized context, it is often forgotten that migration and transnational links of the diaspora communities have important positive socio-political and economic effects: they contribute to the economic and political development of both sending and receiving societies. They usually play a positive role in the host-country economy by easing labour shortages and contributing to overall growth, while they also send remittances to their country of origin. Moreover, while they may act as remote agents of political modernization in their countries of origin, they also contribute to the host society through their civic and cultural associations as well as their political mobilization for rights or against discrimination. Most importantly for our interest in cultural policy here, transnational diasporas are homes to some of the most imaginative and inventive forms of art. They contribute not only to


13

the development of new artistic expressions but also provide for new forums for the cultural expression of immigrant citizens and denizens alike. Such forums and cultural activities, as the research presented in this book suggests, often exist in spite of, rather than thanks to urban or national cultural policies. The latter continue to categorize art by migrant artists as socio-culture, which is not respected for the intrinsic artistic value which is reserved for the high art of ‘natives’ or ‘world music’ stars from overseas. In the following section, we shall consider some of the main features of European capital cities today and of their transnational realities that open new spaces for cultural expression.

European cities and transnational spaces Against this rather bleak background of multiculturalism policies in crisis and an emphasis on security issues at national level, a more careful look at large European cities reveals a different situation. Although the situation can be very uneven from one city to another, transnational networks are nevertheless developing and even thriving. These new flows and networks challenge and disrupt national discourses of cultural homogeneity which insist that many groups of ‘outsiders’ have to assimilate to a dominant ‘insider’ culture. At the centre of our project on which this book is based, stood the premise that cities provide better cognitive tools than nations for re-imagining the new interdependencies and flows of contemporary societies. They also provide empirical evidence for the ways in which the possibilities of living with others can be seen as an opportunity for encounter, rather than purely as a threat to security and dominant orders. A global city like London (Sassen, 1999; Asu Aksoy, this volume) is a case in point. London is a centre for important flows of commodities and people that transcend urban and national territorial boundaries, turning it into a cosmopolitan city. Both of Aksoy’s chapters in this volume point to the cosmopolitan reality of contemporary city life. In her chapter on London she shows how transnational media and world cultural events cater for and express the needs of London’s diverse people. These are no longer to be limited to traditional bounded communities, but take the form of transnational and fluid groups that combine home-country orientations with host-country experiences, creating an overall openness towards new forms of cultural identity and expression. In a further chapter focusing on migrant networks in general and Turkish networks in particular, Aksoy sees a new form of sociality developing which link

14 Introduction

family networks with broader networks of business, information, religion and politics. The chapter by Ulrike Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou on transnationalism and their analysis of African migrants in Europe show similar processes in action. Their research as well as that by Kiwan and Kosnick underwrites the cosmopolitan nature of Paris as a capital city. To understand the complex nature of the artistic creativity of transnational musicians from Africa in Paris, and the transnational networks which underpin their professional musical careers, the authors introduce the new concept of ‘transcultural capital’. By this they reference a particular blend of social and cultural capital in these migrant musicians’ lives, which has positive economic consequences. Paris like London is thus characterized by a thriving scene of world cultural events, transnational media, and important cultural flows among its Maghrebi and African diasporas that build links with other European cities such as Berlin, Vienna or Rome. Kiwan and Kosnick’s chapter on Berlin and Paris addresses both the opportunities of the city for artistic creativity, but it also problematizes the different policy contexts for post-migrant cultural production. Here they see a division into ‘ethno-culture’ on the one hand, and ‘high culture’ on the other. They argue that at the institutional level of cultural policy it is implicitly presumed that non-‘white’ immigrants will, above all, engage in cultural or artistic projects which are tied to the notion of ethnic and social identities, and do not qualify as ‘serious’ cultural contributions of artistic value. Similar problems are registered in the other cities where the large and economically profitable ‘world music’ events often exclude immigrant musicians. The chapter on urban cultural policy in Rome by Ankica Kosic and Anna Triandafyllidou in this volume presents a rather disappointing situation in the Italian capital where immigrants are marginalized both as cultural producers and consumers. However, some artists testify to transnational exchanges and flows that bring African and Maghrebi artists from Paris to Rome in search for better work (and legal stay) opportunities. Similarly, some of the immigrant artists based in Rome long for the openness and cosmopolitanism of Paris that would give them many more chances to survive and develop their skills. There is evidence of transnational flows in Belgrade and Ljubljana as well, despite the recent experience of the break-up of Yugoslavia and the war and embargo that Serbia experienced until recently. Indeed, the alternative and underground transnational scene in these two cities is characterized by the very specific history and recent experience of the


15

Balkans. Migrants come from places that were once part of the ‘home country’, notably Yugoslavia. They are now re-imagined as aliens and migrants, but the cultural flows and networks remain active so that new forms of cultural expression like turbo-folk are emerging (see the chapter by Nikola Janović and Rastko Moˇcnik, and also the chapter by Milena Dragićević Šešić and Sanjin Dragojević in this volume). Thriving transnational realities are also observed in Berlin despite the ‘whiteness’ of urban cultural policy (see Nadia Kiwan and Kira Kosnick in this volume). The relative lack of immigrant integration policies in Berlin has not prevented the establishment and development of immigrant artists, nor the opening up of transnational flows and exchanges with Turkish artists and record companies and ethnic media networks in Istanbul and London. The same is true for Vienna, where alternative forms of cultural expression also develop, despite the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy that labels immigrant cultural activities as matters of social integration. In sum, a closer look at the urban realities across Europe reveals a more encouraging landscape where immigrants, while busy making ends meet, also develop new forms of cultural expression that transcend the boundaries of the national or the ethnic and create new types of artistic expression, new cultural and commercial networks for art products and eventually new realities of cultural diversity and cosmopolitanism. These realities may not affect the large majority of the urban city dwellers, nor the majority of immigrant populations in European capital cities. They are, however, developing and dynamic, despite the perceived crisis of multiculturalism, the security emphasis in migration policies and the overall ‘crisis’ of the European project. This book offers a fresh look into these realities from a cultural policy perspective, that aims at being complementary to more mainstream sociological perspectives regarding immigrant social and economic integration, immigrant civic or political participation, and/or specific activities of political or economic transnationalism such as voting and lobbying in the home or host country or sending remittances back to the country of origin.

Transcultural Europe and cultural policy: urban, transnational and transcultural perspectives In the last section of this introduction we will give a more detailed account of the structure of the book and its individual chapters. The book is divided into three sections with different though interlinking

16 Introduction

perspectives. Part I focuses on cultural policy in Europe, Part II on the city spaces we researched, and Part III on transnational and transcultural connections. Following on from this introduction, Monica Sassatelli’s chapter considers the extent and nature of the Europeanization of cultural policy in constructing a common European approach. One of the aims of cultural policy has always been the fostering of specific identities and thus the formatting of a fully socialized, compliant citizen. Although normally associated with the national level, today this is becoming manifestly relevant both at the local and supranational level. Her chapter shows how this can be envisaged as part of one and the same process, in which local and European – urban regeneration and European identity – reinforce each other. She analyses synergies as well as contradictions through two perspectives: one by reconsidering the state of the art in the current Europeanization of cultural policy, and two through a more specific focus on one of the flagship initiatives of the EU’s cultural policy, namely the European City of Culture programme. This programme is itself a sign of the centrality of cities for the cultural scene in Europe. Furthermore, after more than two decades it has undergone several reforms and enlargements following the EU’s own development. It thus provides a privileged point of view for understanding the logic, the achievements and the limits of the attempts to achieve Europeanization through cultural policy. Chapter 3 by Milena Dragićević Šešić and Sanjin Dragojević develops the logic of cultural policy as a means for constructing a unified Europe further by focusing on the nature of the relation between Western Europe, on the one hand, and Eastern and Southern Europe, on the other. As their title ‘Real or Imagined Divides?’ suggests, Eastern and Western Europe cannot easily be subsumed under the same unifying umbrella. Given the inequality that underpins the East–West relationship, Eastern Europeans perceive a patronizing approach in which Western European institutions are involved in a kind of ‘knowledgetransfer’ exercise. Artistic and cultural agencies are expected – in very different conditions from those obtaining in Western Europe – to promote market-driven cultural industries strategies; and they are required, also, to promote political and regional objectives, such as conflict resolution and the combat of stereotypes. In such circumstances, the cultural scene in Eastern Europe finds its development considerably hampered and also distorted. This leads to ambivalent feelings towards Western Europe. On the one hand there is optimism about interactions between the two halves of the continent – particularly from those


17

countries that will benefit from the enlargement process. And on the other there is scepticism, with those countries not about to enter the EU feeling the threat of marginalization and exclusion. The chapter analyses the lines of division running through the larger cultural space of Europe, exploring the imagined nature of what have for so long been experienced as real divides. The fourth and last chapter in Part I, by Nadia Kiwan and Ulrike Meinhof, looks at cultural policy from a discourse-analytical perspective, interrogating the very terms in which the debate about cultural diversity and multiculturalism is framed. They argue that the much referred to concept of ‘cultural diversity’, and its equivalent in French or German, is often evoked as either a synonym for or an advance on the similarly omnipresent term ‘multiculturalism’. In many different contexts, where metropolitan (as well as national) cultural policy engages with the relationship between people of different cultural backgrounds in European cities, these terms seem to suggest a progressive, non-racist agenda of cultural coexistence. However, when examined in more detail within the linguistic and pragmatic context of policy documentation and speech at European, national and metropolitan level, these terms become ambiguous, difficult to pin down, as well as contradictory. The chapter draws on key policy documents and political discussions to establish the complex semantic field, and raises the question whether the multiple meanings and connotations of cultural diversity discourses could disguise or even misdirect the discussion about greater transnational coexistence. With one exception (Chapter 2) all chapters are based on research which we conducted for three years under the umbrella of a European fifth framework project Changing City Spaces: New Challenges to Cultural Policy in Europe (http://www.citynexus.com). Part II of the volume addresses questions of cultural policy from a metropolitan perspective. In what ways, we ask, can the city help us to re-focus questions to do with cultural diversity? We have already referred to these ‘city chapters’ in the discussion above, but would now like to give a fuller account of the specific chapters on the cities at the centre of our research. Chapter 5 by Asu Aksoy on London as a cosmopolitan city illustrates the rationale behind our choice of cities as our focal point. Aksoy sees the city as a space for cultural interaction and addresses the issues of what might be new and productive in taking the city as a focus for thinking about cultural diversity. In the light of current discussions around the importance of flows and mobilities for understanding urban

18 Introduction

dynamics and on transnational urbanism, the aim is to get at what might be significant in terms of ‘good practice’ with respect to questions of cultural diversity. Why are some cities culturally productive? Or what makes some cities cosmopolitan grounds for cultural interaction and innovation? Her discussion focuses on London as a particularly valid case study. London’s world-openness – that is, its openness to flows and its ability to mediate and translate these flows – is central to its potential as a cosmopolitan model for cultural innovation. Cultural innovation and the institutionalization of art lie at the centre of the discussion of Chapter 6 which compares the cities of Paris and Berlin. Somewhat provocatively entitled ‘The “Whiteness” of Cultural Policy in Paris and Berlin’ Nadia Kiwan and Kira Kosnick argue that in spite of their differences both cities are marked by a division into ‘ethno-culture’ and socio-culture on the one hand, and ‘high culture’ on the other. In other words, it is implicitly presumed that non-‘white’ immigrants will, above all, engage in cultural or artistic projects which are either tied to the notion of ethnic and social identities, and do not qualify as ‘serious’ cultural contributions of artistic value. The authors see this, for example, in Paris, where cultural associations are encouraged through funding bids to work on issues of migrant memory and life histories – where the artistic is merely a vector for a type of social work. In the city of Berlin, public funding and institutional structures similarly ethnicize the work of immigrant artists. The authors argue that this state of affairs is not as such linked to national understandings of what constitutes culture, but rather is the manifestation of cultural hierarchies and the unmarked ‘whiteness’ of artistic standards. The result leads to a duality where on the one hand there is high culture, and on the other socio-culture and immigrant cultural expression. Kiwan and Kosnick argue that the divide between high culture and socio-culture which was once mainly a class divide, has now developed into a ‘native–immigrant’ divide, a duality that expresses itself concretely in both cities in terms of funding as well as spatially. Separate budgets and institutional structures promote an ethnicized view on immigrant cultural contributions which regards them primarily as reflections of ethnic diversity in the context of multicultural integration. Similar processes can also be found in Vienna and Belgrade, the focus for the next chapter by Martina Böse, Brigitta Busch, and Milena Dragićević Šešić, though the most relevant distinctions here are between private and public-sector policies. More and more tasks and duties in the cultural sector formerly fulfilled by public bodies are being abandoned, or outsourced to commercial bodies. Against this trend, and attempting


19

to function as a corrective between the public and the private sector particularly at the urban level, the ‘Third Sector’ came into existence in the late 1960s and early 1970s to respond to civic cultural needs. This took the form of manifold cultural policy initiatives from below in both Vienna and Belgrade, that aimed at promoting the inclusion of different alternative and marginalized cultural forms and activities, including those of migrants. By contrast to liberal market economies, third-sector agencies maintained until recently their preeminent role in both cities for different reasons. While Austria’s social market economy increasingly commissioned third-sector initiatives to fulfil public agendas up to the 1990s, 1990s ex-Yugoslavia saw the fostering of independent initiatives within the third sector by the international community. More recently, the increasing commission of the third sector by the nation-state has been supplemented through the vehicle of European funding programmes such as EQUAL. Two phenomena have occurred in response to this development: on the one hand parts of the third sector defy servicing the nation-state and turn to developing transnational and in particular trans-urban networks that operate outside the private realm and constitute an increasingly important contestant of translateral cultural policies (for example GATS concerning cultural services). On the other, transnational flows of cultural products have developed in a ‘grey zone’, a space in between that can neither be defined as commercial nor as associative. It has emerged due to legislative measures at the national and supranational level that have affected the circulation of cultural goods. Such informal cultural practices include the mutual exchange of video cassettes, music recordings, printed material, as well as the re-definition of public space for the purpose of cultural activity in Vienna and the self-organization of cultural practices in Belgrade. The last chapter in Part II, by Ankica Kosic and Anna Triandafyllidou, also looks at cultural policies and the practices of immigrants from topdown and bottom-up perspectives. Their chapter investigates the way in which the local government and related public institutions in Rome address through their policies the multicultural agenda and integration of immigrants. As in other chapters in this volume, they base their analysis on multiple sources such as official documents and reports, as well as in-depth interviews with the main ‘actors’. From a top-down perspective they investigate the extent to which local cultural policies encourage the participation of immigrants in the cultural life of Rome. Are there opportunities for immigrants, or are they excluded by the institutional framework of the city? From a bottom-up perspective the chapter also investigates initiatives taken by immigrants themselves.

20 Introduction

However, in spite of a growing interest in buzz words such as ‘intercultura’ and ‘multietnicita’, the overall picture for Rome is still one of widespread marginalization of immigrants, with very limited access to culture as participants or agents. Implicit in all the chapters is a move beyond the national frame and an awareness of the increasing significance of cultural flows, and of connections between places and across spaces. In Part 3 of the volume this moves centre-stage; here we address the growing transnational dimension in transcultural developments. Chapters 9 and 10 both combine a theoretical discussion of transnationalism with case-studies of transnational networks. Chapter 9 by Aksoy considers the challenge that the presence of diverse migrant populations presents for Europe – in particular the culture of the European Union, as it developed in the 1990s – if Europe is seen through the prism of the nation-states or the national regions of Europe. Neither of these European models provides an adequate base for understanding current changes, with each furthering anxieties about border, boundaries, insiders and outsiders. Aksoy proposes a different lens which would give a more complex and fluid perspective for viewing the changing European social and cultural order. She proposes to take the experiences of migrants, their networkings and negotiations as a paradigm for a transnational Europe. Migrant networks allow a rethinking of some of the fundamental principles on which national cultures and communities have been based. The chapter finishes with a case study of Turkish migrants in Europe as a particular trajectory for understanding the transformation of Europe into a more cosmopolitan space. Chapter 10 also builds on experiences and self-understandings of migrants to understand the fluid nature of transnational practices. The authors, Meinhof and Triandafyllidou, introduce a new concept of ‘transcultural capital’ as a way of appreciating the complex combination of cultural, social and economic capital developed by some of the migrant musicians of their study. The chapter argues against the essentializing of migrant populations as belonging to fixed identity categories. Instead the authors identify diasporic, neo-communitarian as well as cosmopolitan elements in the artists’ own discourses and suggest that these represent overlapping repertoires for people’s multiple identifications in diverse cultural settings and different everyday life contexts. Instead of stressing the positive or negative aspects of ‘diasporic’, ‘neo-communitarian’ or ‘transnational’ networks, the authors show how these are potentially non-exclusionary resources. Within the cosmopolitan spaces opened up by modern means of communication,


21

these may be entrenched and diversified in novel ways. Widespread bi- or multilingualism, bi- or multiculturalism, strong transnational ties within and across migrant communities and other novel aspects of many migrants’ everyday lives can thus constitute a powerful transcultural capital which maximizes rather than restricts the options for migrant populations. The chapter uses fieldwork and interview data with cultural actors from Africa, especially Malagasy, against a background in Paris where such ties and spaces seem to be readily available. The final two chapters in the volume and the section foreground the nexus aspect and its cosmopolitan implications. All cities studied were investigated as multiply-layered spaces in their own right as well as through being nodes in so-called nexuses. Hence the cities of Paris, London and Rome formed part of the so-called ‘African nexus’ allowing for the study of interconnections of its migrant populations. Berlin, London and Vienna were part of the so-called Turkish nexus, whilst Belgrade, Ljubljana and Vienna formed nodes in the Balkan nexus. The chapter ‘Nexal Registers: Identity-Peripheral Cultural Industries and Alternative Cultures’ by Nikola Janović and Rastko Moˇcnik theoretically and empirically explores the implications of nexal flows of persons, commodities, ideas and tastes. They argue that public policies towards what we consider to be a major dimension of contemporary global processes – what we call nexus flows – seem curiously to oscillate between two poles. On the one hand there is organized brutality against ‘illegal migrants’, non-citizens, certain stigmatized groups of citizens, and against ‘alternative’ social practices (or practices of socializing). And on the other there is some awareness of minorities’, ‘diasporas’, ‘marginalized’ groups, and so on. Only two types of sociocultural practices seem able to mobilize the enormous potential inherent in these processes: certain sectors of cultural industries, and the polymorphous multitude of practices conventionally lumped together under the compendium category of the ‘alternative’. Both are largely situated outside the horizon of public policies, and entertain an ambivalent relation to them. The authors analyse the implicit logic that makes public policy approaches miss the vital streams of contemporary history, and investigate the structural conditions of contemporary cultural racism. By contrast, there are alternative socio-cultural strategies and commercial operations that exploit the opportunities created by these nexal flows. If ideological ‘maps’ still stiffen most public policies and prevent them from moving – then alternative and commercial ‘voyages’ spontaneously sketch new maps that may help us towards a more adequate orientation.

22 Introduction

The last chapter by Kevin Robins concludes the book by offering thoughts on what a cultural policy for European cosmopolitanism might look like. Robins’ theoretical account incorporates many of the ideas of previous chapters by examining the limitation of the national frame and stressing the new kinds of connectivity that exist between peoples and places in the European space. Rather than polarizing transnational, global or national perspectives, Robins calls for a creative dialogue between them. His chapter also offers thoughts on how transcultural diversity can be expressed in European public culture. He explores alternative possibilities for cultural policy, taking into account both the city and the nexus dimensions, and the positioning of migrants within these. Robins concludes by setting the scene for a new ‘cosmopolitan’ agenda for Europe. Notes 1 For an overview of the European press on the matter, see http:// www.europressresearch.com/. See also http://www.robert-schuman.org/ and http://constitution-europeenne.info/ for additional reviews and analyses of the public and political discourse on the EU Constitutional Treaty ratification process. See in particular newspaper articles and commentaries from various EU countries during the week of 30 May–3 June (during and after the French and Dutch referenda on the EU Constitutional Treaty on 29 May and 1 June respectively) and on 18–21 June after the conclusion of the Summit meeting of the EU Council in Luxembourg which called off the ratification process inviting all member states (those that had in the meantime ratified the Constitutional Treaty as well as those that had not) to engage into a ‘period of reflection’ on the matter. The same Council failed to approve the new EU budget. 2 Earlier discussions on the crisis of multiculturalism and the rise of security concerns in Europe can be found in Modood, Triandafyllidou and ZapataBarrero (eds) (2005), chapter 1 as well as in Triandafyllidou, A. (2005a). 3 The law was eventually adopted in 2004; however, most of its novel features, such as a point system for new labour migrants to Germany, had been omitted.

References Bigo, D. (1994) ‘The European Internal Security Field: Stakes and Rivarlies in the Newly Developing Area of Police Intervention’, in M. Anderson and M. den Boer (eds), Policing across National boundaries. London: Pinter, pp. 161–73. Bigo, D. (1996) ‘Police en réseaux. L’expérience européenne’, Le Monde Diplomatique, October: 10. Diehl, C. and Blohm, M. (2003) ‘Rights or Identity? Naturalisation Processes among “Labour Migrants” in Germany’, International Migration Review: 133–62 European Commission (2003) ‘Migration and Social Integration of Migrants. Valorisation of Research on Migration and Immigration’, funded under the 4th and 5th European Framework Programmes of Research. Proceedings of a


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dialogue workshop organized by DG Research (RTD) with DG Employment and Social Affairs (EMPL) and DG Justice and Home Affairs (JAI). Brussels, 28–29 January 2002. Jandl, M. and Kraler, A. (2003) Austria: A Country of Immigration? Available at http://www.migrationinformation.org/Profiles/display.cfm?ID=105, accessed on 21 June 2005. Kastoryano, R. (2005) ‘French Secularism and Islam. France’s Headscarf Affair’, in T. Modood, A. Triandafyllidou and R. Zapata Barrero (eds), Multiculturalism, Muslims and Citizenship. A European Approach. London: Routledge. Kosic, A. and Triandafyllidou, A. (2005) Active Civic Participation of Immigrants. Italy, Report prepared for the POLITIS project, EUI, Florence, February 2005, available at http://www.uni-oldenburg.de/politis-europe/9812.html, accessed on June 21 2005. Loader, K. (2002) ‘Policing, Securitisation and Democratization in Europe’, Criminal Studies, 2(2), pp. 125–53. Modood, T., Triandafyllidou, A. and Zapata-Barrero, R. (eds) (2005) Multiculturalism, Muslims and Citizenship. A European Approach. London: Routledge. Runnymede Trust Commission on British Muslims and Islamophobia (1997) Islamophobia: A Challenge To Us All. London: The Runnymede Trust. Runnymede Trust Commission on British Muslims and Islamophobia (2004) Islamophobia: Issues, Challenges and Action. Stoke-on-Trent: Trentham Books. Runnymede Trust. Commission on the Future of Multi-ethnic Britain (2000) ‘The Future of Multi-Ethnic Britain’, Chair of the Commission: Bhikhu Parekh, London: Profile. Sassen, S. (1999) Guests and Aliens. New York: The New Press. Sayad, A. (1991) L’immigration ou les paradoxes de l’altérité. Brussels: De Boek. Schiffauer, W. (2005) ‘Enemies within the Gates – The Debate about the Citizenship of Muslims in Germany’, in T. Modood, A. Triandafyllidou and R. Zapata Barrero (eds), Multiculturalism, Muslims and Citizenship. A European Approach. London: Routledge. Triandafyllidou, A. (1999) Immigrants and National Identity in Europe. London: Routledge. Triandafyllidou, A. (2005a) ‘New Challenges for Europe: Migration, Security and Citizenship Rights’, in Cinco años después de Tampere∗ . II Seminario Inmigración y Europa. Fundació CIDOB: Diputació de Barcelona. Barcelona. Triandafyllidou, A. (2005b) ‘Religious Diversity and Multiculturalism in Southern Europe: The Italian Mosque Debate’, in T. Modood, A. Triandafyllidou and R. Zapata Barrero (eds), Multiculturalism, Muslims and Citizenship. A European Approach. London: Routledge.

2 The Logic of Europeanizing Cultural Policy Monica Sassatelli

Introduction Cultural policy is increasingly at the centre of public and academic attention, due to its constant expansion and relevance for issues of cultural identity and local development. One of the aims of cultural policy has always been the fostering of specific identities and thus the formatting of a fully socialized, compliant citizen. Or, more precisely, the contradictions and problems of legitimacy involved in the policing of culture have been solved claiming the necessity to safeguard and foster the identity of a given community. The community thus ‘imagined’ has been typically the nation (Lewis and Miller, 2003), and the nation-state, the prime actor of interventions on cultural matters. However, in the last twenty to thirty years in Europe, decentralization on the one hand and Europeanization on the other have undermined the state monopoly of cultural policies, calling for a reconsideration of their rationale, objectives and reach. Actors operating at different territorial levels may define ‘culture’ as an object of policy intervention in different ways, calling for a specific study of what has been called the multiple instrumentalities of culture (Barnett, 2001). This chapter addresses the issue of the Europeanization of, and Europeanization through, cultural policies; it does so through a reconstruction of the history of the European institutions’ cultural policies in the recent past, and an analysis of their rationale. This descriptive and analytical overview is then complemented by a closer focus on one of the EU’s most prominent cultural policy initiatives: the European City of Culture programme (ECOC). Whilst being a sign of the centrality of cities for the cultural scene in Europe, this programme, more than two decades old and having undergone several reforms and enlargements 24

Monica Sassatelli

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following the EU’s own development, provides a privileged point of view to understand the logic, achievements and limits of Europeanization through cultural policy.

Cultural policy in European integration A European myth started to circulate in the 1980s: Jean Monnet, one of the ‘founding fathers’ of European integration via the European Economic Community, is reported to have said: ‘If we were to do it all again, we would start with culture’. Although soon exposed,1 the myth has persisted and is still often reported in the literature, clearly filling a gap in legitimacy for the emerging European cultural policy and providing a revisionist narrative after the not so total success of monetary union in making Europe a new socio-political unity. In fact, in the first instances of what was to become the European Union – from the ECSC to the EEC – culture was not only overlooked, but intentionally dismissed. The dominant, so-called neo-functionalist, approach to integration did not entail a comprehensive union and the creation of a fully-fledged new European subjectivity, instead limiting integration to a set of specific sectors, economically key but far from issues of national sovereignty and identity, on the assumption that it would be by economic and technical harmonization only that forms of social and cultural integration would eventually come about, by ‘spill-over’.2 However, ideas of a more comprehensive integration were never really excluded from projects of European integration, and soon found ways to enter the picture. This took mainly two forms: firstly, also in temporal terms, the ideal of a more comprehensive and geographically extended integration found expression in the Council of Europe (COE), an organism founded in 1949. Culture was at the core of the COE’s activities since the beginning, as shown by its initiation of the European Cultural Convention, signed in 1954 with the intent to ‘to foster among the nationals of all members, and of such other European States as may accede thereto, the study of the languages, history and civilization of the others and of the civilization which is common to them all’ (COE, 1954). COE’s main cultural activity has included several ad hoc initiatives, such as prizes, conferences and so on, the cultural policy review programme based on a systematic series of comparative studies on cultural policies in the different European countries, an indirect but key strategy of Europeanization itself. Although mainly a consultative body, the COE’s role should not be overlooked, as it acted de facto as a think-tank for solutions adopted later by the

26 The Logic of Europeanizing Cultural Policy

EU in sensitive fields such as culture: as is proved by the fact that the COE’s European Cultural Convention rhetoric has been progressively embodied in the EU’s emerging cultural discourse – much as the flag used by the COE since 1955 was appropriated by the EC in 1986, and since then has become a very common part of our everyday symbolic landscape. The second, slower but more relevant, way in which culture maintained and incrementally enlarged its role in European integration has developed within the mainstream institutions, from the EEC onwards, thus finally securing a place in what now stands for European integration tout court. This started as a very marginal and disguised sector of intervention (that had to ‘pass’ under some of the statutory fields of competence it actually exceeded), then gradually gained momentum, reaching two important moments with the Maastricht treaty first and then with the new potential and challenges of the enlargement of 2004 and of further ongoing expansion that constantly questions the extent and nature of internal cultural diversity. Whilst the impact of enlargement on EU cultural policy, and vice versa, is one of the key elements to be explored in the years to come, this chapter aims at describing how the present situation developed. Its origins lie back in the 1970s, when culture first emerged as a concern in the EEC, and pressures from the never fully sedated federalist soul of the Community brought back onto the agenda (in particular of the two main supranational bodies, the Commission and the Parliament) ideas about more direct actions towards comprehensive integration. These were backed by the Declaration of European Identity of 1973 (CEC, 1973) and by the influential Tindemans Report of 1975 (CEC, 1976), which established a link between a European identity in need of promotion and advances in political interaction, and recommended that action be taken to create a ‘people’s Europe’ to balance the technocratic one, also giving suggestions that contained the nucleus of a cultural policy.3 In the decade following this, the Commission issued three communications4 that can be considered milestones in the incremental development of a cultural policy, although revealingly the first of these, from 1977, cautiously declares, ‘as the cultural sector is not culture, so community action in the cultural sector is not a cultural policy’ (CEC, 1977: 6). Indeed, action in the field had to be legitimated as a specification of economic or social policies already within the competence of the Community, entailing a focus on the cultural industries, for issues such as the training and work conditions of cultural operators or matters of ad hoc initiatives concerning production and distribution of cultural goods. If the second Communication of 1982 calls for a

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Strengthening of Community Action in the Cultural Sector (CEC, 1982), the situation is similar, and more relevant is the following year’s Solemn Declaration on the European Union (CEC, 1983), where cultural action is finally recommended as a means towards the fostering of a common identity. This gave the Commission the green light it was waiting for, and a series of initiatives was promoted, strongly supported by the powerful new Commission led by Jacques Delors, which also instituted a commissioner and a DG for culture from 1986 (DGX, previously responsible for information only). Notably, the ‘People’s Europe’ campaign was launched in 1985, and was at the origin of measures of pervasive if often dismissed impact such as university exchange programmes and the introduction of the Euro-symbols (flag, anthem, a common design for passports). In 1987 the third Communication A Fresh Boost for Culture in the European Community (CEC, 1987) could already build on what was described as the success of these cultural initiatives of symbolic nature, and promote a much bolder approach. However, it was only five years later with the Maastricht treaty that a legal framework actually ratified these developments (for more details on these early stages up to Maastricht, see Bekemans, 1993; Pantel, 1999). So, if cultural action started on an intergovernmental basis, in the late 1970s, a specific, supranational, competence on culture was introduced by the Treaty on the European Union (TEU) signed in Maastricht in 1992 (amended in Amsterdam in 1997) which contains a title on culture. Together with dispositions for a European citizenship, culture is often cited as among the major novelties of the TEU. However, as with citizenship, dispositions on culture are in fact rather limited, and reveal an approach where the nation-state is still by far the main actor. The very formulation of the relevant article reveals the difficult debate from which it emerged, and substantially it only ratifies what was already being done, rather than introducing new domains: ‘The Community shall contribute to the flowering of the cultures of the Member States, while respecting their national and regional diversity and at the same time bringing the common cultural heritage to the fore’ (TEU, Art. 151, 1).5 Being classified within those domains where the Community has only complementary competence, the latter only entails coordination, integration and support initiatives, and it is burdened by the requirement of unanimity in the decision-making process. The iron rule of unanimity at the same time testifies to the reticence of member states to delegate even small portions of sovereignty, and has the effect of slowing down every initiative. This, together with the very small budget devoted to culture,6


make up the main argument of those pointing out that a European cultural action is still rather limited. If we turn to the practices that gave substance to the new legal framework, we see new cultural programmes launched after Maastricht, first, in the second half of the 1990s Kaleidoscope (cultural cooperation), Raphael (cultural heritage) and Ariane (publishing and reading), and then Culture 2000, a framework programme which reorganizes not only the previous ones but also other previous initiatives.7 These are informed by a commitment to the protection of the ‘common cultural heritage’, together with the promotion of a better knowledge and awareness of the cultures of the European peoples (strictly in the plural), whose variety, as it is always recalled, is the richness of Europe. On paper, therefore, the objectives are very broad, and quite explicitly address the question of European cultural identity, claiming that cultural policy is there to protect and at the same time foster it, providing a wide legitimization for the European integration project on a whole. As we read in the document which established Culture 2000: Culture has an important intrinsic value to all people in Europe, is an essential element of European integration and contributes to the affirmation and vitality of the European model of society and to the Community’s influence on the international scene. Culture is both an economic factor and a factor in social integration and citizenship; for that reason, it has an important role to play in meeting the new challenges facing the Community, such as globalisation, the information society, social cohesion and the creation of employment. (Decision 508/2000/CE) The strategy designed to pursue these objective still follows the thread of the previous approach, that is mainly financially supporting projects of cultural co-operation and exchange across Europe, according to what in the evaluation criteria of Culture 2000 itself is called ‘European added value’: a project’s European dimension, typically measured in terms of actual cooperation (organizational, institutional, financial) and exchange with partners of different member states.8 A system of direct grants to various cultural actors, operating mainly at the local level, is thus still the heart of the EU cultural policy.9 This has meant that the EU has been able to generate new ties between Brussels and local actors, both institutional (local governments) and societal (NGOs, networks, and so on), and not only through the culture programme: the EU has also encouraged the use of the (much more

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generous) structural funds for cultural projects.10 The relevance of structural funds for the cultural sector has the effect of ‘putting culture at the service of local development’ (Helie, 2004: 67). This is very important if connected to the fact that as the EU intervention in culture was developing throughout the 1980s, its individual states were undergoing a common trend – despite an otherwise very diverse administration of culture – a trend towards decentralization of cultural policies, partially devolving cultural competence to subnational, regional and local bodies (Bianchini, 1993). Indeed, the TEU itself already mentions the regional level next to the national one. This contributed to the creation of a much more complex framework of instances and possibilities, leading to a synergy between the local dimension and European agencies, a synergy actively promoted by the EU. The plurality of actors and of their relationship may explain why interpretations still vary on the real impact of current cultural action, and more varied still are the interpretations of how good or desirable that impact is, and how it enters the relational map of preexisting actors (for two different conclusions see Pantel, 1999, and Banus, 2002). In order to assess this debate we have to turn to the rationale of the policy and locate it in its wider context.

Locating the ‘European cultural space’ Whereas the objectives of the EU cultural policy are clear and explicit, and its strategy to pursue them poses few interpretative problems as well, the raw material on which both are based is often criticized as problematic, at best, non-existent or mere manipulation from above at worst. It is all very well, critics say, to go around repeating, in the same breath, that the common European heritage should be brought to the fore and that cultural diversity is the richness of Europe, as the TEU does, and it may therefore be a good strategy to fund, according to a sort of ‘watering-can principle’, lots of those actors, mainly local, that best embody this ‘unity in diversity’ solution; but if diversity is readily identified with national and subnational traditions, what is this common European heritage repeatedly mentioned and never defined really made of? What would be a European dimension that goes beyond a mere sum of national icons, thus de facto still promoting the nation? In order to address these issues we have to consider not only the objectives and strategies, but the whole rationale of EU cultural policy, looking into what is indeed its guiding principle, the oft-mentioned ‘unity in diversity’ solution.


Having in mind a broader picture of the process of integration, as well as the wider issue of institutional identity-building, we see how the development of cultural action at European level may well be difficult and complicated, but is not a total exception. The incremental path described in the previous section is representative of what has been defined as the Community policy style peculiar to those sectors in which the competence is neither exclusive nor clear and touches sensitive domains of national identities and sovereignty. In these cases, it has been noted, the strategy is for the Commission, the organ with the mandate to initiate policies, to prepare Communications, public documents designed to stimulate reflection in the relevant sectors, in order to inform and shape the debate. Combined with programmes of direct grants to the sectors themselves, this creates a climate of consensus and coalition that eventually legitimate the Community proposals (Morata, 1998). Many policies not covered by the original Treaties have followed a similar path, mechanisms of this type are for instance to be found in the social and environmental policies. Like the cultural policy, these carry strong elements of national identity, and have been incrementally introduced, initially with general directives (albeit catalyst for focused initiatives), then with financial support creating links with subnational and societal actors, and thus a demand ‘from below’ for Community intervention (Majone, 1996; Mazey and Richardon, 1995). This type of incremental and consensual policy style is what we find in EU cultural policy. A particularly relevant aspect of this policy style, linked with the wider issue of European (not only EU) cultural policies and the cultural sector, is that this style is based on and thus promotes, the flowering of more or less formal networks and projects of local cultural operators. With the financial support of the Community, conditions are there to create international networks that cooperate on common projects, which because of their origin end up having objectives, methods and a rhetoric very close to the community ones.11 These, which are normally defined as grassroots initiatives, are also dependent on institutional support, and function as incubators for the solutions and approaches designed at Community level, and are then monitored according to standard procedures. In a way, this jeopardizes the consolidated distinction between top-down programmes of cooperation and bottom-up initiatives, contributing to a subtle but substantial reconfiguration of the field. Thus, we can observe that the strategy of penetrating relevant public debate and making initiatives appear to arise ‘from below’ has significantly resulted in the fleshing-out of what has been considered a

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key element in reaching the main objectives, that is, the idea of a ‘European cultural space’. The result of this approach, regarding both practices and discourse, is two-fold. On the one hand, the more explicit and less ambitious aspects of cultural policy as extension of previous policies (such as the economic, social and education ones) continues to develop, those with the more direct and straightforward objective of fostering of European cultural sector, sometimes legitimized by a rhetoric of defence from external (American) cultural imperialism. In this case, the European cultural space is presented as just a corollary of much more central European economic space, and culture is promoted as just another industry, as the emphasis on the media industry embodies. On the other hand, however, a cultural policy driven by a more ambitious logic has continued to develop as well, a policy directly aimed at the creation of a European cultural identity. This is the objective that we find in those actions that the EU sometimes defines as symbolic, or of special significance, such as the ‘European City of Culture’, and that we find repeated in preambles and general dispositions of official documents from the 1980s up to Culture 2000 and beyond. Here we can trace an underlying but consistent attempt to build the European cultural space, this time conceived more substantially, as a profound, if ill-defined, new sociocultural reality, something that we can in a way envisage as the equivalent projected into the future of what for the past is the idea – equally ill-defined and allegedly deep-seated – of a common European heritage. However, it is precisely this more proper form of cultural policy that is difficult to interpret, because it does not satisfy the model we have in mind, which is, explicitly or otherwise, the national one. European institutions cannot follow the path of cultural homogenization and consensus that the nation-state so successfully imagined for itself (although really how successfully and at what cost is something that might still be further investigated, thanks also to the new perspectives opened by Europeanization). They cannot because their existence is based on that of its components (national and local), and thus on a delicate equilibrium between the drive for unity and the concern for diversity. As a result, a constant invariant of official discourse on European identity is that its content is never made explicit (beyond some very general appeal to basically universal values) as neither is the common heritage at its basis, all along putting at least as much emphasis on differences and on their being the specific richness of Europe. The ambiguity of this ‘unity in diversity’ solution is the major subject of critique. If it is true that the cultural identities available are nowadays


multiple, providing a basis for the idea of ‘unity in diversity’, it is also true that there is no guarantee that they will be harmoniously nested, or of their potential relevance in the face of older and stronger forms of identity. Indeed, the concept of multiple identity often remains optimistically undifferentiated, and the ‘unity in diversity’ formula has thus been criticised as a formal solution with no substance, a superficial if successful motto: an innocuous gimmick for some, an evil attempt at erasing specificities whilst pretending otherwise for others. This is because it excludes a priori the possibility of conflict, and accepts diversity as long as it is consensual, something made possible by a notion of culture that, even if allegedly wide and ‘anthropological’, actually draws more on notions of ‘high culture’ (broadly conceived indeed, but still predominantly an aesthetic notion where difference can easily be seen as positive multiplicity). In brief, ‘unity in diversity’ is often seen as a rhetorical escamotage to hide what is effectively a centralizing, top-down approach, whilst still failing to give a definite content to its abstract and ambiguous slogans (Shore, 2000). However, if the assumptions hidden in mottos such as ‘unity in diversity’ need to be analysed, it should also be noted that their ambiguity does allow for different, contrasting uses. This ambiguity, or contentlessness of EU discourse about cultural identity and about the very meaning of ‘Europe’, instead of being conceived of as a sign of weakness with a scarce hold on reality, should be thematized (Kertzer, 1988). It seems, therefore, that the best approaches to the Europeanization of cultural policies, as perhaps to Europeanization in general, are those that do not make a fixed comparative template of the national case, especially with regard to the type of relationship established between the institutions and the individual and societal level in general. To consider the finding and definition of a common (homogeneous and consensual) culture, and thus identity, a necessity descends normatively from the comparison with the nation-state. However, this does need investigation, an opening up of questions as much as of answers. Before struggling to define the elements of a European identity, we should consider the means employed in creating such an identity. And before we try to evaluate their effects, we should see them as clues to the type of identity they are addressed to, they should make us question the very nature of cultural identity and the assumptions from the past that we project in the present (Sassatelli, 2002, 2005). One particularly interesting means is the European City of Culture programme that, as has been noted, ‘provides an excellent example of efforts to promote unity through diversity by emphasising particular

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identities and their contribution to the larger European whole’ (Pantel, 1999: 55). It is from a closer examination of it that we can locate Europeanization in sector- and place-specific practices and processes.

The European City of Culture programme (ECOC):12 being and becoming The European City of Culture (ECOC) programme can be considered representative of EU interventions on culture and more generally of the particular policy style described above. The programme has in fact a complex history and a hybrid character that characterizes community cultural action. In particular, the idea stemmed in the early 1980s from the Council of Ministers, an intergovernmental body, as the initiative of a particular minister. It was then launched well before cultural competence was officially established and, having been an intergovernmental action for over 20 years, has become a direct action of the European Commission’s DGX13 from 2005. Moreover, the ECOC is a cultural initiative, but it is also what the Culture 2000 programme sometimes defines as an ‘emblematic action’. The idea of this programme was launched in 1983 in Athens, thanks to the initiative of the then Greek Minister of Culture, Melina Mercouri, who is often reported to have said, ‘it is time for our [the Culture Ministers’] voice to be heard as loud as that of the technocrats. Culture, art and creativity are not less important than technology, commerce and the economy’ (quoted in Myerscough, 1994: 1), thus seizing the first signs of a possible development of cultural action at European level. Being an intergovernmental action, mainly funded by the city involved, the ECOC is both designed and implemented locally. The role of the European institutions basically ends with the conferment of the title and of the small fund that goes with it. The EU, however, sets the mission, that is ‘to highlight the richness and diversity of European cultures and the features they share, and promote greater mutual acquaintance between European Union citizens’. On the one hand, the intention is to give cities an occasion to show their cultural life in Europe, with an eye to the tourism industry; on the other hand, other European countries’ contributions to the event are encouraged. The ECOC it thus not just a festival, but also a venue for exchange, debate and reflection. This limited formalization has encouraged a dismissive attitude towards the ECOC, judged irrelevant, as is EU cultural action in general. In this particular case, it would be the matter of little more than an empty honour, both for the limited financial support it involves, and because of the almost complete autonomy given to the involved city.


In this the ECOC is also representative of Community cultural action in general, marginal and without a distinguished connotation from the point of view of its contents. With these characteristics the ECOC has nonetheless attracted growing attention, and the programmes set up by cities are increasingly complex and ambitious, entailing initiatives that would not easily fit into a traditional definition of cultural policy and that clearly aim at a wide notion of culture. This success may arguably be linked also to the ability of the EU to maintain a low profile, thus avoiding the feeling that the programme is a top-down invasion of the delicate sphere of cultural identities. But this sphere is, of course, precisely what the ECOC is targeted at. This is evident in an examination of the history of the programme’s implementations so far.14 From the very beginning it played a not insignificant role in a ritual construction of Europe, and in the reconceptualization of its cultural roots. The first ECOC was in fact Athens in 1985, which may seem natural considering the idea came from a Greek minister, but above all, this reactivated the narrative of the origins of Europe in the ‘cradle’ of ancient Greek culture. This was confirmed in the following ECOC, Florence in 1986; the words of the mayor of Florence at the time of the nomination clearly reveal the narrative behind this sequence: If the roots of European civilisation are in classical Athens, the modern world that put man back at the centre of his own history was born in Florence with humanism and the Renaissance, thanks to the rediscovery of Greek civilisation. This has been one more reason to be happy to follow Athens in this programme. (Bogiankino, 1987: 16) Having represented two of the classical steps of the ‘European spirit’ in their birth places, Athens and Florence, things get more complicated: in the following years there is not such a clear rhetoric, though a political and institutional significance to the title can still be traced. Amsterdam (’87) explicitly used the title to promote support of the EC, so much so that a public debate on whether this constituted consensus manipulation accompanied the event, with accusations of promoting the common market under a cultural patina. Paris (’89) strongly wanted and obtained the title during the year of the bicentenary of the French revolution (then totally let the grandiose celebrations of 1789 overshadow the ECOC). Dublin (’91) had tried to be ECOC at the same time of its turn with the EC presidency (failing narrowly however), so as to underline its belonging to the European ensemble. Similarly, West

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Berlin (’88) aimed at an early nomination so as to lay a claim to its belonging to the Community, at the time still contested by the Soviet Union. Over a decade later, and after the reunification of Germany, Weimar was ECOC in ’99, following an idea born at the fall of the wall, and pointing to the readmission of East Germany to the Western world (Roth and Frank, 2000). These are not isolated cases, for the title has often been a symbol of belonging: for Madrid (’92) it meant an acknowledgement of its return to democracy, for Stockholm (’98), nominated in 1993 when Sweden was not yet in the Community, it was part of the rites de passage towards membership; and the same can be said for the year 2000 for candidate countries Czech Republic and Poland, with Prague and Crakow as ECOC. In short, the title of ECOC is, or at least tries to work as a mobilizing metaphor (Shore and Wright 1997), to cement a new status or accelerate a desired one. With the progressive consolidation of the programme itself, cities have increasingly used the autonomy left by its limited codification, thus also showing a great diversity from one city to another, an aspect that is actually celebrated rather than condemned at the European level. According to the two reports commissioned by the EU to assess the first and second decades of the programme (Myerscough, 1994; Palmer-Rae Associates, 2004), even if the ‘European focus’ of the cities is not fully satisfactory, the ECOC having achieved more in highlighting differences than in bringing the European dimension to the fore, what is desirable would not be ‘formula approaches, taking examples from each member state [that] have rarely proved artistically valuable and should be viewed with some caution’ (Myerscough, 1994: 20). It is rather on ‘cultural networking’ and international exchanges that hopes are placed: ‘The international visits … were a practical contribution to “making the cultural unity of Europe” ’ (ibid.). Because, as the more recent report confirms ‘The richness but also the challenge of ECOC is that there is no agreed formula for a cultural programme, and the unique historical, economic, social and political context of each city cannot be ignored’ (Palmer-Rae Associates, 2004: 14). Still, a common trend can be identified, connected to a more general trend in urban cultural policies, now aimed at economic and social regeneration (Bianchini, 1993). It is a shift from being a celebration of cultural excellence of major capitals (in an elite culture sense) to being used as an instrument for development of the cultural capital of marginal cities (Booth and Boyle, 1993; Richards, 2000). Glasgow (’90) is commonly considered the turning point: the very choice demonstrating the new trend, Glasgow clearly not being a cultural capital in the same


terms as Paris, Athens or Florence. With Glasgow ’90 there is thus a shift from celebratory festivals to fully-fledged annual programmes, with wide and ambitious scope and scale, for both cultural and other objectives. Nevertheless, even with this new approach, the strategy is still to present the involved city as a typical European city. Glasgow, being a marginal city both in cultural terms and, one could argue, geopolitical terms, uses the title not as a means of belonging or celebration, but in order to climb a sort of internal hierarchy. Its presentation booklet significantly declared: ‘Glasgow looks like a European city. And feels like one’ (cit. in Heikkinen, 2000: 212). It may seem an obvious and redundant sentence – Glasgow is of course a European city – but it is one that gets transformed into a declaration of identity, almost a manifesto, pointing to a quality or a will that goes beyond whatever we assume the established meaning of ‘European’ to be. As a study said of Helsinki 2000: [T]here is a certain imaginary, symbolic hierarchy between the locales on Europe. Now the image transformers of the ‘marginal’ or ‘peripheral’ cities are trying to present their cities as European cities – whatever the term means – in order to relocate them ‘higher’ in the hierarchy. (Heikkinen, 2000: 212) To be European means more than being in Europe for these cities, it means to become European in a more significant, auratic, and thus also less-defined sense. To be able to see and enhance one’s own Europeanness is a sign of distinction, of a high cultural capital, to put it à la Bourdieu (Bourdieu, 1979). The valorization of a city’s culture and identity stems from its redefinition as ‘European’. The term now connotes a quality, never explicitly or implicitly defined, through which what is geographically European can be evaluated (Ifversen, 2002). Europe as a contested concept does not derive only from the European institutions, but can be appropriated, as the case of Glasgow shows, or indeed those of ECOCs from ‘third European countries’, such as Bergen and Reykjavik 2000 or Sibiu 2007 and Stavanger 2008. This is why the ideology-critique approach usually applied to these questions, although relevant, is not sufficient, as it tends to assume that there is a monolithic and hegemonic discourse, derived mainly from a blueprint of the nation, in a situation that is in fact more complex and open-ended, at least at present. The ECOC does indeed acquire more relevance and legitimacy, but this does not go hand in hand with a stronger role for the EU institutions and their specific rhetoric and aims. Also, this apparently paradoxical trend of the ECOC is representative of EU cultural policy in general: constantly

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growing, but still lacking even an open acknowledgement of its being a cultural policy proper (Banus, 2002). To conclude, the ECOC is, often explicitly, a means for a reconceptualization of both space and time in European terms. Such a conclusion can be intuited in the very formulation of the programme, in particular with regard to the reconceptualization of space. Greek, Italian and French cities are now called European (as once they were nationalized). The present reconceptualization clearly does not have the strength of the national one, which it is not attempting to substitute, but is nevertheless very significant. A significance revealed in the fact that the precise title is ‘European city of culture’ and not ‘City of European culture’. The chosen formulation is not, as it might at first seem, just more careful and blurred; on the contrary, it shows that what is at stake is a redefinition of the context of the belonging of cities, and thus of identities, more than an appropriation of cultural contents in European terms.

Final considerations: local content in a European frame The policy and the history of the ECOC confirm what the analysis of EU cultural action in general already suggests: the particular constellation of possibilities and constraints opened up by the new European policy actors is one where the flexibility (or ambiguity) as far as contents is instrumental to its framing, and quite consistent, function. This stays in the background, but as we have seen for the ECOC, underlies the more obvious and celebrated great heterogeneity and changes of the programme over the years: what the ‘European dimension’ may actually mean for each specific ECOC varies at the level of their direct policy aims, but the symbolic dimension is constant, and, precisely, European. It is this wider context that valorizes local identities, legitimating their mobilization. Conversely, the specificity of local identities guarantees the non-centralizing nature of the wider identity level. By pointing to this distinction it is possible to see the particular configuration that the synergy between the local and European assumes. The ECOC are indeed very different and autonomous, but only as long as they adhere to the European horizon, for cities can promote and foster their specificity whilst adhering to the pluralistic ‘unity in diversity’ motto. The reference to Europe becomes the frame that shapes the contents of experience, that constitutes the main (for the most part hidden) device of reality construction, and on which reality feeds back interpreting it in different keys (Goffman, 1974). This is how we can interpret the


emphasis on the ‘European dimension’ that we find repeated continuously in official documents and discourse. In EU cultural policy the diversity of themes is permitted, and even encouraged, as long as the frame that enables and constrains them is European. Conversely, this framework is widely accepted, as long as it does not – as identity markers tend to do – impose a specific and exclusive content. If this is so, the key issue is indeed whether the ‘unity in diversity’ formula really does point to a new style – and, after Anderson’s imagined community we know that the style of imagination is what really matters – of institutional identity building. The decisive element is the treatment of the ‘diversity’ half of the formula. In the policies that will be introduced in the years to come, and in the way the new challenges of enlargement will be faced, we must therefore look at how the issue of diversity is interpreted and used, whether it is taken seriously, and still presented as a reason not of division, but of unity. This may be easy when difference is reduced to aesthetic difference: indeed EU rhetoric has often seemed to imply a notion of diversity excluding a priori the possibility of conflict, accepted as long as is innocuous and consensual, as it is the case when limiting culture to its elite or high version. Things get more complicated when identity is at stake, because then we have to consider a much wider, so-called anthropological, concept of culture, where difference can be problematic, can create conflict. It is precisely in how it deals with this that the ‘unity in diversity’ slogan will show its worth. This will probably consitute a better evaluative criterion for its assessment than the comparison with the national example, which, as far as respecting differences is concerned has not fared very well anyway. Challenges ahead abound; from the much debated Turkey issue to that of a social Europe more generally; these are all tests to see if the rhetoric of ‘unity in diversity’ can be used not as celebration of difference per se, in a kind of postmodernist divertissement, but in the full, controversial meaning of difference, in order to imagine an identity which is inclusive rather than exclusive.

Notes 1 Jack Lang has claimed authorship of the myth, as something he said when as French Minister of culture in the early 1980s he was trying to gather a meeting of his fellow ministers of the other member states, and to be more convincing said that if he were to start today Monnet would start from culture. The conditional soon disappeared and the myth started to circulate (quoted in Mammarella and Cacace, 1999: 95). For comments on the misquoting of Monnet and on Monnet’s method of integration see also Shore (2000: 42–4).

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2 Histories of European integration and accounts of its theories and practices are manifold. See, for instance, Morata (1998) and Nugent (1999). 3 The Tindemans Report also contained the ambitious proposal of establishing a European cultural foundation. Although this more straightforward approach eventually failed, once again it was not totally discarded, as a European foundation was privately established in 1954 by the philosopher and scholar of Europe, Denis de Rougemont, operating firstly from Geneva and then Amsterdam, from where it continues its programme of cultural cooperation. 4 On the particular ‘style’ that characterizes the rise of the EU cultural policy see the next section. 5 The proposed Constitutional treaty, currently undergoing (a rather difficult) ratification process, fully endorses this article, only substituting Union for Community. 6 Even after the TEU, only the 0.033% of the Union budget is earmarked for culture, about a tenth of what even the least interventionist countries in the cultural sector invest individually (Banus, 2002: 160). However, the figure should also consider the funds that culture receives through structural funds, which are much more substantial; see below. 7 Such as the European City (Capital) of Culture programme, see p. 33 ff. below. Due to last five years (2000–04), Culture 2000 has been subsequently extended till 2006. A new programme is due to start in 2007 (for a preliminary outline see the EU’s website, in the pages dedicated to culture). 8 The other criteria are ‘cultural added value’ and ‘socio-economic impact’. For a (EU commissioned) evaluation of the implementation of Culture 2000 see PLS Ramboll Management (2003). 9 To give an idea, in the period 2000–04, Culture 2000 received an average per annual call of about 700 projects and financed over 200 (annual, multiannual and special events projects), for a total allocation of about 30 million euro per year. 10 According to an official estimate of 2001, structural funds give to culture about 400 million euro per year, that is 12 times the annual provision of Culture 2000 (see Helie, 2004: 71). 11 For an overview of European cultural networks, see Efah-Interarts (2003), another study commissioned by the EU. 12 In the following this acronym will be used for European City, or Cities, of Culture. When reference is made to a particular ECOC only the city and the year will be mentioned: e.g. Athens ’85. In the literature the programme is sometimes also called ‘European Capital of Culture’, a definition that officially substituted the other one from 2005. 13 The ECOC programme has evolved through the years; worthy of notice are the decision of 1992 to open the participation, after a first ‘round’ of the member states, to European cities outside the EU and to set criteria for selection, previously only based on decisions of the Council of Ministers on the basis of a rotating nomination among EU countries (Decision of 12 November 1992 of the European Council of Ministers). The other main revision was introduced in 1999, following the new competence on culture established with Maastricht: from 2005 the programme becomes a direct action of DGX within Culture 2000 (Decision 1419/1999/EC of the European

40 The Logic of Europeanizing Cultural Policy Parliament). The procedures for candidature and selection are also redefined, and the sequential nomination among EU countries reintroduced. In the new scheme along with a city from a Member state a city from a ‘third European country’ can be nominated each year. Moreover, a modification of the previous Decision introduced in 2005 established that a city from one of the enlargement countries will be nominated in parallel starting in 2009 (Decision 649/2005/EC). 14 The full list of ECOCs so far is as follows: Athens ’85; Florence ’86; Amsterdam ’87; Berlin ’88; Paris ’89; Glasgow ’90; Dublin ’91; Madrid ’92; Antwerp ’93; Lisbon ’94; Luxembourg ’95; Copenhagen ’96 (first round). Salonika ’97; Stockholm ’98; Weimar ’99; for 2000 (special edition): Bergen, Bologna, Brussels, Cracow, Helsinki, Prague, Reykjavik, Santiago de Compostela; Oporto and Rotterdam 2001; Bruges and Salamanca 2002; Graz 2003; Genoa and Lille 2004 (end of intergovernmental programme); Cork 2005. Forthcoming ECOCs already selected are: Patras 2006; Luxembourg and Sibiu 2007; Liverpool and Stavanger 2008.

References Banus, E. (2002) ‘Cultural Policy in the EU and the European Identity’, in M. Farrell, S. Fella and M. Newman (eds), European Integration in the 21st Century: Unity in Diversity? London: Sage. Barnett, C. (2001) ‘Culture, Policy, and Subsidiarity in the European Union: From Symbolic Identity to the Governmentalisation of Culture’, Political Geography, no. 20: 405–26. Bekemans, L. (ed.) (1993) Culture: Building Stone for Europe 2002. Brussels: European University Press. Bianchini, F. (1993) ‘Remaking European Cities: The Role of Cultural Policies’, in F. Bianchini and M. Parkinson (eds), Cultural Policy and Urban Regeneration: The West European Experience. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Bogiankino, M. (1987) ‘Firenze tra Atene ed Amsterdam’, in Italia. Rivista di documentazione fotografica, no. 94/95: 16. Bourdieu, P. (1984) [1979] Distinction. A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. CEC (Commission of the European Communities) (1973) Declaration on the European Identity. Bulletin of the European Communities, 12 (Clause 2501:118–27). CEC (1976) Tindemans Report on European Union, reprinted in Bulletin of the EC Supplement, 1/76. CEC (1977) Community Action on the Cultural Sector, reprinted in Bulletin of the EC Supplement, 6/77. CEC (1982) Strenghtening Community Action in the Cultural Sector, reprinted in Bulletin of the EC Supplement, 6/82. CEC (1983) Solemn Declaration on European Union, reprinted in Bulletin of the EC, 6: 24. CEC (1987) A Fresh Boost for Culture in the European Community, reprinted in Bulletin of the EC Supplement, 4/87. CEC (1996) First Report on the Consideration of Cultural Aspects in European Community Action, Com (96) 160. Brussels, European Commission. Cogliandro, G. (2001) European Cities of Culture for the Year 2000. A Wealth of Urban Cultures for Celebrating the Turn of the Century, final report,

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online (www.europe.ue.int, European Commission, Culture, European Cities of Culture). Cornu, M. (1993) Compétences culturelles en Europe et principe de subsidiarité. Bruxelles: Bruylant. Efah-Interarts (2003) Report on the State of Cultural Cooperation in Europe. For the European Commission Directorate-General for Education and Culture, online (www.europe.eu.int., European Commission, Culture, Reports and Studies). Goffman, E. (1974) Frame Analysis. New York: Harper & Row. Gordon, C. and Mundy, S. (2001) European Perspectives on Cultural Policy. Paris: Unesco. Heikkinen, T. (2000) ‘In from the Margins: The City of Culture 2000 and the Image Transformation of Helsinki’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 6, no. 2: 201–18. Helie, T. (2004) ‘Cultiver l’Europe. Elements pour une approche localisée de l’ “europeanisation” des politiques culturelles’, Politique européenne, no. 12: 66–83. Ifversen, J. (2002) ‘Europe and European Culture – A Conceptual Analysis’, European Societies, vol. 4, no. 1: 1–26. Kertzer, D.I. (1988) Ritual, Politics and Power. New Haven: Yale Unversity Press. Le Galès, P. (2002) European Cities. Social Conflicts and Governance. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lewis, J. and Miller, T. (eds) (2003) Critical Cultural Policy Studies. A Reader. Oxford: Blackwell. Majone, G. (1996) Regulating Europe. London: Routledge. Mammarella, G. and Cacace, P. (2003) Storia e politica dell’Unione europea (1926–2003). Rome: GLF editori: Laterza. Mazey, S. and Richardson, J. (1995) ‘Promiscuous Policy Making: The European Policy-Style?’, in C. Rhodes and S. Mazey (eds), The State of the European Union: Building a European Polity. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Morata, F. (1998) La Unión europea: procesos, actores y politicas. Barcelona: Ariel. Myerscough, J. (1994) European Cities of Culture and Cultural Months, Full Report. Glasgow: The Network of European Cultural Cities. Nugent, N. (1999) The Government and Politics of the European Union. Durham: Duke University Press. Palmer-Rae Associates (2004) European Cities and Capitals of Culture. Study prepared for the European Commission, two volumes, online (www.europe.ue.int, European Commission, Culture, Reports and Studies). Pantel, M. (1999) ‘Unity in Diversity. EU Cultural Policy and Legitimacy’, in T. Banchoff and M. Smith (eds), Legitimacy and the European Union. London: Routledge. PLS Ramboll Management (2003) Interim Report on the implementation of ‘Culture 2000’ in 2000 and 2001, online (www.europe.ue.int, European Commission, Culture, Reports and Studies). Richards, G. (2000) ‘The European Cultural Capital Event: Strategic Weapon in the Cultural Arms Race?’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 6, no. 2: 159–81. Roth, S. and Frank, S. (2000) ‘Festivalization and the Media: Weimar, Cultural Capital of Europe 1999’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 6, no. 2: 219–41.

42 The Logic of Europeanizing Cultural Policy Sassatelli, M. (2002) ‘Imagined Europe The Shaping of a European Cultural Identity through EU Cultural Policy’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 5, no. 4: 435–51. Sassatelli, M. (2005) Identità, cultura, Europa. Le ‘Città europee della cultura’. Milano: FrancoAngeli. Shore, C. (2000) Building Europe. The Cultural Politics of European Integration. London: Routledge. Shore, C. and Wright, S. (eds) (1997) Anthropology of Policy. Critical Perspectives on Governance and Power. London: Routledge.

3 Imagined or Real Divides? Milena Dragićević Šešić and Sanjin Dragojević

Introduction This chapter will explore how real obstacles to political and cultural integration of Europe are emphasized by the imaginary ones through focusing on real debates carried out in different communities at the periphery of the EU and on empirical data relevant to ‘border crossing’, cultural communication patterns, as well as ‘cultural diplomacy’ policies within the European space. We will take into account the relevant political documents and social research analysis, but also media discourse and art practices in order to investigate and debate new European mobility (nomadism). We are starting from the premise that contemporary Europe is surrounded by territories and communities towards which different strategies of communication and integration are developed. We will leave to one side numerous conflictual issues not entirely relevant to cultural policies: no national report for the Council of Europe Programme in Evalution of Cultural Policies in Bosnia and Herzegovina; postponement of accepting national reports in many countries due to ‘sensitive’ national issues, as in Macedonia or Armenia. We will explore further the situation in those political, economic and cultural enclaves situated in Southeast Europe as well as on the Eastern (for example, Moldavia, Armenia, Georgia) and Northwestern (Kaliningrad, Belarus) margins of Europe. Our aim is to determine why communities that are excluded are still not accepting the rationale of territorially driven cultural policies, but continue to be obsessed with ethnic (constructed community) based cultural policies. Why is the citizen still less important than the compatriot wherever she/he lives, and why are the imaginary ‘national’ territories 43

44 Imagined or Real Divides?

(usually politically lost territories) still more present in cultural discourse than the territory on which the contemporary state is developed and for which it is really responsible. Our critique and analysis will explore not only the ways in which politics of identity as well as a utopian–dystopian picture of Europe (still dividing communities around the issue of Europeanization as a process of (post)modernization/de-ethnicitization/transnationalization/ communitarization/europeanization) are constructed, but also the ways in which through European policies of inclusion/exclusion (embodied primarily in different policies toward different regions, visa regimes, ‘eligibility’ in different EU programmes, and so on), they are pushed towards further isolation in cultural policy-making and towards further internal divisions. It will be asked, by way of conclusion, why cultural diversity is still not invoked in those countries which since enlargement of the European Union (EU) have become new neighbours, in spite of the fact that this term is one of the key tools of contemporary cultural policies and practices of the EU as Chapter 4 of this volume clearly demonstrates.

Europe somewhere in and around us As of 1 May 2004, the pace of European integration has quickened and has changed traditional patterns of alliances. The EU now has 25 members (eight of which are from the former Soviet bloc); four other countries are on the EU’s waiting list (Turkey, Romania, Bulgaria and Croatia), and several other states may be (including Albania, Macedonia, Serbia and Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina). However, other European countries appear not to have a place in this new and more integrated Europe (such as Ukraine, Russia, Belarus and Moldavia).1 These divisions have generated new borders within the territory once known as Central and Eastern Europe, and even in such regions as Southeast Europe. The reconfiguration of Europe and its influence on previous borderlands may be readily observed in the former Yugoslavia. Once a united country, it has now been divided into three different zones which have distinct relations with the EU: Slovenia has joined the EU, Croatia is regarded as a prospective member, while the remainder of the former Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Macedonia) seems to be excluded from any prospect of future accession to the EU. It thus follows that Slovenians can easily travel throughout the EU, while Croatians do not need visas to enter the EU and will have special entry points on the Slovenian border. However, other groups

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(Macedonians, Bosnians, Serbians and Montenegrians) require visas for which they must fulfil numerous requirements. In practical terms, this third group of former Yugoslav citizens cannot enjoy unrestricted access to the EU or even secure individual tourist visas. Such dramatic political changes have naturally influenced culture. Cultural cooperation rules and practices have necessitated new patterns and territorial clusters. The freedom that followed the fall of Soviet domination in the Soviet-bloc countries from 1989 signified for many of these Eastern and Southeastern European countries the first firm confirmation of their European identity since the Second World War. Such transformations have led to excesses in cultural policies. These include ‘Baroque Lithuania’ (the first major exhibition organized in Lithuania as part of the Council of Europe programme ‘Cultural routes’), and the elimination of the Cyrillic alphabet in public spaces (in all Baltic countries). In addition, cities, streets and even languages have been renamed, contributing to the further erosion of countries’ and peoples’ cultural identities. Ethnic nationalism, which emphasized territorial homogenization around real and imagined borders, has been revived in response to this erosion. EU authorities have tried, albeit with limited success, to promote a macro-regional approach instead of targeting each individual country in order to cope with this development of ethnic nationalism. In the early 1990s, these authorities identified four specific regions for the purposes of culture: Central Europe, the Baltic countries, Southeast Europe and Eastern Europe. The EU offered these regions different types of inclusion assistance, cooperation and aid for development and modernization. As a result, the regions have developed different rhythms and patterns of ‘Europeanization’. Moreover, the war in Southeast Europe in the early 1990s and numerous still unresolved internal conflicts generated policies of ‘country-specific treatment’ up to the 1996 Dayton agreements. Since 1996, however, the international community has operated a change in strategy, favouring the development of a regional approach by compelling those countries to move towards mutual cooperation and communication (through a Stability pact and other initiatives). Despite such policies, in Southeast Europe sub-regional divisions have been created, and new ‘borders’ have been established (East and West Balkans). This turmoil and the creation of new territorial boundaries have resulted in new and more isolated cultural ‘enclaves’, which do not permit the free flow of ideas and goods. Bosnia and Herzegovina is a prime example of such divisions because the country is composed of divided communities, but other such ‘enclaves’ may be found in


Belarus and Moldavia, and, to a lesser degree, in Serbia with Kosovo and southern Serbia, and in Macedonia. The Kaliningrad region as one of the new European enclaves (or ‘exclaves’ as Russian politicians have termed them), has had to develop new practices with new partners to overcome this double isolation (distant from the Russian mainland, but also isolated from its EU neighbours). Kaliningrad is an excellent casestudy of how different views of the same territory can appear in international relations.2 Polish authorities propose a solely regional type of cooperation (thereby preventing the involvement of Poland as a nationstate); the Lithuanian authorities view cooperation with Kaliningrad as a solely bilateral issue between the two sovereign states, namely Russia and Lithuania; German authorities perceive German cultural heritage – still strong in the region – as the key element in future cooperation; and, finally, Russia regards the Kaliningrad region as part of Russian territory and emphasizes their common culture and language (though Kaliningrad’s population is composed of 80 different ethnic groups). These enclaves differ from the rest of Europe where mobility, openness and migrations of people have created a new cosmopolitanism and diversity. They are characterized by ethnocentricity and intolerance, and focus on concentrating their populations (together with refugees and marginal groups) around their core territories.3 EU policies concerning these enclaves (such as an embargo on Serbia, restricted cooperation with Belarus, limitations of visas for Ukraine and Moldavia), have contributed to the establishment of a policy of exclusion, although such a policy has never been officially articulated, let alone endorsed. EU authorities, seeking to promote stability in the region, have fixed borders for all the states involved, and such stabilization has facilitated Europeanization.4 Without such fixed territories the Polish/German, Hungarian/Romanian, Hungarian/Slovakian, Czech/German and Italian/Slovenian borders would be in jeopardy. It was only through the clear demarcation of these borders that myths and imaginary national territories nurturing nationalism were suppressed. The borders and maps have naturally drawn the attention of Eastern European and especially Southeast European art and theory. Already in 1996, Belgrade hosted the international congress ‘Frontiers – The Challenge of Interculturality’, with the support of the Council of Europe and numerous foreign donors.5 The exhibition ‘The Room with the Maps’ (Belgrade, 1995) and numerous other artistic projects were held in the region showing the obsession of the artists with re-creation of the borders and new country geography.6 Even at the end of the 1990s, many artists continued to develop such projects; for example, the artist


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Katarina Pejović, a Serbian citizen living in Slovenia, sought to cross in the form of performance the Slovenian/Austrian (Schengen) border as many times as possible in one day while the Bosnian artist, Maja Bajević, shredded the map of the former Yugoslavia trying to design from the fragments of the map a ‘tailor-made’ dress, thus symbolically denying the existence of old and new borders on its territory. The project ‘Women Activists are Crossing Borders’, organized by Transeuropéennes (Paris), involved women from all the Balkan countries travelling together across the new formal (and, usually, very restrictive) borders, but also across inner internal ‘borders’ created by hatred and ethnic cleansing, invisible on the maps, but very present in the reality of daily life, in an attempt to deny their relevance.7

Cultural policy as the tool of distinction In the majority of new European democracies the so-called Europeanization process has started, at least on a declarative level, to influence the rhetoric of cultural policies. This process has been characterized by these countries’ request to establish the so-called ‘three pluralisms’: (1) pluralism of ownership – which should place private and state (public) ownership on an equal footing; (2) pluralism of the market – through which market-regulated prices of all products, assets and services will be determined; and (3) political pluralism (embodied in a democratic multiparty system) – through which all democratic procedures, control of political power within society and influence of citizens on the sphere of power will be established. The countries and regions where Europeanization processes8 have not yet been accepted still adhere to an imaginary nationhood centred around ethnicity, but not linked to a concrete territory and real borders (for example, Russians as a worldwide nation, pan-Serbian and pan-Albanian regroupments). At the same time, national identity constructions could be based on myths and mythologies linked specifically and even more intensively to ‘lost’ territories such as Kosovo for Serbians, parts of Macedonia for Bulgarians, part of Turkey for Armenians, part of Greek Macedonia for Macedonians.9 Similarly, populist and right-wing movements address this issue even in Western Europe as regards ‘lost territories’ such as the Danube region for Germans; the ‘Greek’ cities on the Black Sea and the East Aegean for Greeks;10 Istria for Italians). The final result is the neglecting of historical facts and contemporary realities, as well as living more in a cloud of collective memories and consciousness than relating to present-day circumstances.


If we can define the method of creating cultural policy within the EU as territory-driven cultural policies (based on facts and ongoing research, the situation and needs of diverse populations) within the borders of one country,11 in the same time period (1990s) the method which has prevailed in the Eastern World has been the method based on constructed community-driven cultural policies. The first approach emphasizes territory and citizenship. It is an inclusive approach, because in all cultural models (social, generational, elitist, popular, traditional and so on), major and minority cultures are taken into account not only within instruments of cultural policy, but also as a way of conceiving and developing cultural practices. The motto would be: celebrating cultural diversity on our territory!12 The main issue became: ‘How are the cultural institutions linked up with their territories?’. It was no longer an issue vis-à-vis their (national) community.13 The second approach emphasizes ‘ethnicity’ as the key element of self-identification, trying to conceive and conceptualize the cultural policy for the imagined (constructed) community. The word ‘diaspora’ is emphasized, as well as all key ‘national identificators’; in the majority of cases language, alphabet, religion, traditional art forms and so on. The report Armenia 2020 (available online at www.armenia2020.org) clearly represents this approach. The Report cites as special characteristics of Armenia its ‘unique language, unique alphabet’, ‘the place of culture in Armenian identity’, ‘church vs. state as keeper of culture’, while the ‘bi and multiculturalism’ of Armenians is seen as the most negative component of present-day culture. Another report, the National Report of Armenian Cultural Policy, prepared under the auspices of the Council of Europe programme of evaluation of cultural policies, proved to be unacceptable for the Council of Europe. In fact, the National debate and acceptance of the Report, which was due to be published in the Compendium of Cultural Policies of Europe website, was postponed for two years following completion of the reports of national and foreign experts in 2003. This means that there exists a mutual lack of understanding of the territory-driven and community-driven concepts in policy-making and, consequently, dialogue between the two different types of policy-makers is established only with the greatest of difficulty, if at all. Cultural policy in dealing with these old and new European divisions has to find adequate concepts and policy instruments not only to overcome the possible negative and destructive side effects of all such ‘inherited’ territorial overlap (different communities have a sense not only of belonging, but also of possessing the same piece of land), as


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well as the more profound differences in approach about the meaning of culture. Obviously, territory-driven cultural policies emphasize the quality of life of inhabitants while giving everybody a right of access to culture as well to ‘creativity resources’. On the other hand, constructed communitydriven cultural policy is the underlining ‘mission of culture’ as the key element in developing identity politics – making priorities and hierarchies in different cultural practices of population, excluding minorities, but including all individuals of the ‘same ethnic origin’ – wherever they live, and including ‘heritage care’ on ex-national territories (at least in the rhetoric of cultural policy programmes). The critical example is the situation in Bosnia and Herzegovina where the efforts of the Council of Europe’s foreign expert group could not find the appropriate interlocutor.14 Hundreds, if not thousands of small intercultural projects fostering cultural diversity, dialogue and respect could be seen in Bosnia (as a result of civil society and foreign donors initiatives), while the country still does not have a single state institution or project of any significance for the whole country territory (inclusive of all communities).

On the other side of the virtual Eurowall: who is to be excluded from ‘Europe’? To start, research conducted for the European Cultural Foundation in spring 200315 has revealed that artists and cultural professionals share high levels of scepticism towards the recent enlargement of the EU. In Southeastern Europe, which has been the beneficiary of much funding from international organizations, these professionals have expressed the fear that EU attention will be directed towards the ten accession states. These concerns centre on the anonymous European cultural bureaucracy, which16 imposes demands but often neglects the specific interests and needs of art and cultural communities in Eastern and Southeastern Europe. EU bureaucracy, which develops programmes according to its own present priorities (support for cultural diversity, social inclusion, links between culture and tourism, development of creative industries, and so forth), does not often meet the priorities and specific needs in neighbouring countries. Neglecting interests of different social groups, art fields and, even, nationally/regionally/locally-based priorities stated by cultural policies or expressed by the civil sector, the so-called New politics of neighbourhood has a very limited potential. An example


of such failures is the PHARE programme’s priority for development of cultural tourism in Macedonia, a country that lacks political and economic stability and an adequate infrastructure for such development. The Eastern and Southeastern European art and cultural communities appear to be powerless to influence international programmes. They believe that the EU’s multilateral cultural cooperation simply implies that they must comply with the policies and practices of international foundations and organizations, and perceive these foundations and organizations as no more than patronizing them by imposing assistance and reconstruction programmes developed by so-called experts. Additional differences in attitudes between the Southeastern and Eastern European cultural communities and the EU may be observed in the following areas:17 1 the market of cultural goods vs. public interest in culture; 2 living with diversity vs. living with uniqueness; 3 a society of spectacle (image production) vs. cheap media product market (image trade); 4 the cultural and social continuity vs. unpredictable social mutations; 5 feelings of self-confidence vs. feelings of dependency; 6 freedom and a sense of security vs. instability and sense of insecurity; 7 widening of international mobility vs. feelings of territorial isolation; 8 cosmopolitanism vs. ethnocentrism.18 These various differences may be explained as follows: 1 In Western countries, culture is often part of the marketplace. Cultural organizations are required to generate their own income and to accommodate external demands. This trend is evident even in the case of traditional cultural institutions which have often been integral parts of the public sector. Such organizations need to maintain audience attendance in order to generate incomes. In Eastern and Southeastern Europe, public interest and responsibility for art and culture are crucial. However, the whole cultural system that almost collapsed after the fall of socialism remains weak and requires special support and protection. At the same time, the State perceives cultural institutions as evidence of national sovereignty and benchmarks of national identity. Even in countries with scant financial resources, the governments have built new and enormous but ‘classically’ designed cultural institutions, such as orchestra concert halls or opera houses, believing that such institutions are mirrors of political independence.


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2 Although many Eastern and Southeastern European countries are heterogeneous, representing cultural mosaics, the governments have emphasized the dominant culture and do not perceive of the cultures of minority ethnic groups as part of the country’s cultural richness. Instead they isolate the minorities as representative of folkloristic and ghettoized cultures as distinct from the dominant culture. 3 In the West, to meet the demands of the market, cultural products have to correspond to contemporary taste and to bring desirable images and couch them in spectacular settings. In these societies of ‘spectacle’, the focus is on image and event production, and the country itself is valued for its brand and market value, as is Italy, which is closely identified with developments in fashion and design. In Eastern and Southeastern Europe, the unregulated audiovisual sector has offered opportunities for low-budget productions from the USA, South America, India, and domestic sources. Numerous pirate radio and television stations do not produce their own programmes, but transmit low-quality and pirated films, music video clips or cheap ‘soap operas’ – (mainly Latin-American telenovelas) – accompanied by advertisements. The domestic film and music industries are thus undercut and bypassed, and professionals in those industries are left without employment. On the other hand, satellite broadcasting, even when it includes commercial television channels, has hardly made an impact because audiences show little interest (except in times of political crises or wars). 4 The Western world anticipates and welcomes continual cultural changes. However, in the East, resistance to change has become part of the tradition in the cultural sector because of the unpredictable political situation in the twentieth century. Such conservatism can, on occasion, lead to positive outcomes. For example, in Croatia the wars of the 1990s paradoxically led to the preservation of cultural traditions, while the economic and social orders were transformed. The West, with its acceptance of social changes (neo-liberal state, market economy, multiparty democracy) can accommodate important transformations in the cultural sector, while in the East, faced with chaotic social changes, the cultural sector desperately tries to maintain its continuity. Cultural operators are compelled to be social activists, seeking to play a role in politics. 5 The Western cultural sector enjoys enormous self-confidence because of its advantages. On the other hand, the cultural system in the East is


highly dependent on the public authorities as regards management and public support. 6 The managerial and programme autonomy in the West offers security to artists and cultural operators. Conversely, the East’s social and political instability exacerbates the sense of insecurity in the cultural sector, which has already been badly hit by political changes and turmoil. 7 The EU was created to increase opportunities for international mobility. The Eastern non-member states often prevent such mobility and are thus excluded from the main flows of cultural cooperation and exchange. The East becomes increasingly isolated, with new and more stringent visa systems requirements, giving rise to greater ethnocentrism. 8 The new cosmopolitanism of a united Europe characterizes the West, particularly urban dwellers (although ethnocentrism still exists among the population). On the other side of the virtual ‘Eurowall’ (that is, Eastern and Southeastern Europe), ethnocentrism flourishes, rooted in the sense that individual and collective destinies are linked to changes in the national political elites. Minorities remain on the margins of society, organizing themselves on the grounds of ethnic identification. Both the majorities and minorities perceive each other as threats. Even in peaceful zones, these trends persist.

Considerations for the future Policy-makers and policy-making bodies thus face a divided Europe – the EU on the one side and the less integrated states of Eastern and Southeastern Europe on the other. Countries behind the new ‘Eurowall’ in fact do not have developmental opportunities outside the EU. Cultural actors in these regions need to engage in the same discussions as outlined in the Council of Europe initiatives and documents. Simultaneously, they have to engage with the world market economy, while still preserving their own cultural and media products and avoiding the threats posed by the mass products of global cultural industries. The EU should not neglect the group of countries which are still considered as non-prospective members because the unstable ‘Other’ can be a potential political and cultural threat for Europe itself. The conflicts in different regions of the world are transferred immediately in Europe, due to the large number of immigrants from all these countries. Intercultural communication and mediation is a genuine responsibility of the public sector and more specifically of international organizations.


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The quickening of the pace of European integration is the most important development in European history since the Second World War. The opportunities to join in this process have been beneficial for those countries initially involved as well as for those relatively recent newcomers.19 At the same time, Europe should not require higher standards from newcomers than are expected from member countries.20 The most impressive changes occurred in the 1990s when the previous borders opened up many gates: policy programmes and instruments, mobility schemes, multilateral partnership initiatives, and broad cultural platforms. The New Europe should not be created on the basis of exclusion; it has to take into account all its diversities and dichotomies, to be prepared for more controversial debates, and even unusual solutions regarding many questions relevant to the cultural practices and identities. This might lead towards real inclusion and celebration of cultural diversity policies in those enclaves which are at the moment isolated in their own constructed community-driven cultural policies, based on stereotypes, xenophobia and national megalomania. The key issue for the future of the New Europe should remain the opening of the gates instead of the building of borders. Notes 1 The exclusion of certain European countries from any possible membership of the EU has been considered by Doris Pack and Erhard Busek during the 2nd International Danube Conference for Art and Culture in Belgrade (2003). 2 These different views of Kaliningrad were considered at the international seminar: ‘Visions of the Cultural Policy of the Kaliningrad Region in the Current Geopolitical Context’, 11–13 February 2005, Svetlogorsk (organized by NGO Tranzit, European Cultural Foundation, Nordic Council of Ministers, National Centre for Contemporary Arts – Kalininigrad branch) 3 Armenia is the best example of population concentration for different reasons throughout the 20th century. Today, Armenians represent 93% of the population on the territory of present-day Armenia, while in 1828 they only represented 30% of the population. After 1918, this figure rose to 70% when the first republic was declared. After the events of 1990s, only a few Kurd and Assyrian villages remain. 4 For further consideration of the EU role in border demarcation and definition in Eastern Europe, see European Community Guidelines on the Recognition of New States in Eastern Europe and in the Soviet Union, 16 December 1991 www.ejil.org/journal/Vol4/No1/art8-01.html; European Community Conference on Yugoslavia, Arbitration Commission, Opinion no. 1, 29 November 1991; 3 EJIL (1992) 182; European Community Conference on Yugoslavia, Arbitration Commission (later Badinter Commission), Opinion no. 2, 11 January 1992, 3 EJIL (1992) 183.

54 Imagined or Real Divides? 5 The book based on this conference, Frontiers – The Challenge of Interculturality, was published in 1997 by the Forum for Ethnic Relations, Belgrade. 6 In M. Dragićević Šešić, ‘Maps and Borders – the Response of the Artistes to the Zeitgeist’, Culturelink, special issue (Zagreb, 2001). 7 Glasson Deschaumes, G. ‘Journal of the Caravan’, in Women Activists’ CrossBorder Actions (Paris: Transeuropéennes, 2004). 8 S. Dragojević, ‘Culture of Peace and Management of Cultural Diversity: Conceptual Clarifications’, Culturelink (Zagreb), no. 29 (1999). 9 The story of the Macedonian flag is significant in this respect. By choosing symbols from the Vergina archeological site (situated on the territory of present-day Greece – which definitely does not belong to the history of the Macedonian-Slavonic nation that came to the Balkan region in 7th century) – the Macedonian government in fact emphasized this ‘constructed community-driven cultural policy’ to its extreme. 10 Even the most recent Angelopoulos film The Weeping Meadow (2004), the first part of a trilogy which begins with the forced expulsion of the Greek population from Odessa, is a vivid example of those processes of artistic re-articulations of national collective memories. 11 The only exception is Belgium: Since the 1970s, Belgium has undergone a step by step process towards building a federal state made up of territorial regions and linguistic communities. The history of cultural policies since the 1970s can therefore be looked at by examining the activities of the three independent linguistic communities (Flemish, French and German speaking communities) and that of the Federal state; each with their own independent institutions, traditions and political influences. (Compendium, 6th edn.) 12 The theory and the texts of French cultural policy documents are significant in this respect. While up to 1980s the word ‘territory’ could hardly be found in the literature on cultural policy, since 2000 it is the key word to describe the concepts and priorities; see, for example, the writings of Jean-Pierre Saez. 13 Citation from the symposium ‘The Opening Up of Cultural Institutions to a New Public in Europe; Towards New Territorial Cultural Policies’, Banlieues d’Europe, Rheims, 21–22 November 2004. 14 C. Landry, ‘Togetherness in Difference: Culture at the Crossroads, Expert report: Cultural policy of Bosnia and Herzegovina’, Council of Europe, Strasbourg, 2002. 15 V. Katunarić and C. S¸ uteu et al. (eds), Crossing Perspectives: Enlargements of Minds, European Cultural Foundation, Amsterdam, 2003. 16 The programmes such as Culture 2000, Tempus, Leonardo made to ‘fit all’ may not be the most suitable ones to fit newcomers or neighbouring countries; Budapest Observatory Research had shown that in those programmes even the most developed countries of Central Europe do not have equal chance. ‘Culture 2000 With Eastern Eyes: Cultural Cooperation between Old, New and Future EU Members (a statistical analysis)’ (Budapest: The Budapest Observatory, 2004). 17 These dichotomies have been derived from these authors’ common research published in two books: Intercultural Mediation on the Balkans (Sarajevo: OKO, 2004) and Art Management in Turbulent Circumstances


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(Amsterdam: Boekmanstichting, 2005). Two additional sources have been used: F. Matarasso and C. Landry, Balancing Act: 21 Strategic Dilemmas in Cultural Policy (Strasbourg: Council of Europe, 1999); and C. Jenkins (ed.), Core Sociological Dichotomies (London: Sage Publications, 1998). 18 All of those dichotomies can clearly be seen by comparing Dutch and Serbian public policies, social inclinations and values. While in the Netherlands, the cultural sector sees the market as an important factor of cultural life and production, in Serbia culture is still defined as a public good and public responsibility. The Netherlands is learning to live with and from diversity, while in Serbia each culture develops its own system of cultural institutions and self-representation. All other dichotomies seem to apply to those two societies to a large extent, which could also derive from comparing the two national reports (Dutch and Serbian) in the European Compendium of Cultural Policies (www.culturalpolicies.net). 19 Greece, Spain and Portugal joined the European Community after periods of dictatorship, as previously isolated and economically deprived. Quickly, they adopted not only a democratic political system, but all the values and norms which contributed to their intensive cultural and socio-economic development. 20 For example: Convention on Minority Languages was not ratified until 2002 by France, and even then on condition that the report exclude three important articles in order to prevent the introduction of minority languages in primary schools. (http://press.coe.int/cp/99/264a(99).htm and http://www.abo.fi/fak/hf/folklore/projekt/migration/TheFrenchCase.pdf).

References ‘Armenia 2020’, Report, www.armenia2020.org and http://www.armeniadiaspora. com/projects/arm2020/main.html Bassnett-McGuire, S. (ed.) (1991) Translation Studies. London: Routledge. Breznik, M. (2004) Cultural Revisionism: Culture between Neo-Liberalism and Social Responsibility. Ljubljana: Peace Institute. Bojcun, M. (2005) ‘The European Union’s Perspectives on the Ukrainian–Russian Border’, Eurozine.com, http://www.eurozine.com/article/2005-01-12-bojcunen.html (accessed on 20 January 2005). Cliche, D., Mitchell, R. and Wiesand, A. (eds) (2002) Creative Europe. Bonn: ERICarts; www.creativeurope.info (accessed on 16 January 2005). Danube Conference II, Belgrade Cultural Centre, 14–15 September 2003. Dragićević Šešić, M. (2001) ‘Borders and Maps in Contemporary Yugoslav Art’, Culturelink (Zagreb), special issue. Dragićević Šešić, M. and Dragojević, S. (2004) Intercultural Mediation in the Balkans (in English). Sarajevo: OKO. Dragićević Šešić, M. and Dragojević, S. (2005) Art Management in Turbulent Circumstances. Amsterdam: Boekmanstichting. Dragojević, S. (1999) ‘Culture of Peace and Management of Cultural Diversity: Conceptual Clarifications’, Culturelink (Zagreb), no. 29. Dragojević, S. (2002) ‘Process of Pacification in South-Eastern Europe. Challenges and Issues from Cultural Point of View’, in ‘Culture and Social Cohesion in the New Millennium’, CIRCLE/CCRN, Canadian Journal of Communication, vol. 27, nos. 2–3: 243–57.

56 Imagined or Real Divides? ERICarts and Council of Europe (2004) ‘Compendium: Cultural Policies in Europe’, www.culturalpolicies.net (accessed on COMPLETE). ‘The Enlargement and Beyond?’ (thematic issue) Culture International Europe (Paris), no. 40, December 2003 – January 2004. Glasson Deschaumes, G. (2004) ‘Journal of the Caravan’, in Women Activists’ Cross-Border Action. Paris: Transeuropéennes. Inkei, P. (2004) ‘Culture 2000 With Eastern Eyes: Cultural Cooperation between Old, New and Future EU Members (a statistical analysis)’. Budapest: The Budapest Observatory. Jakšić, B. (ed.) (1995) Interculturality in Multiethnic Societies. Hobisport: Založba Drava; Beograd: Klagenfurt. Jakšić, B. (ed.) (1997) Frontiers – The Challenge of Interculturality. Belgrade: Forum for Ethnic Relations. Janˇcar, D. (2004) ‘Central Europe: Utopia or Reality? Central Europe, an Already Existing Model for what EU Bureaucracy Seeks to Create Today?’, Eurozine, http://www.eurozine.com/ (accessed on 12 December 2004). Jenks, C. (ed.) (1998) Core Sociological Dychotomies. London: Sage. Katunarić, V. and S¸ uteu, C. (eds) (2003) Crossing Perspectives, Enlargements of Minds. Amsterdam: European Cultural Foundation. Kiossev, A. ‘Megjegyzések az önkolonizáló kultúrákról’ (‘Notes on Self-Colonizing Cultures’), Magyar Lettre Internationale, vol. 37: 7–10. Kolozova, K. and Trajanoski, Z. (eds) (2001) Conversations with Judith Butler. Skopje: EuroBalkan. Landry, C. (2002) ‘Togetherness in Difference: Culture at the Crossroads, Expert report: Cultural policy of Bosnia and Herzegovina’. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Matarasso, F. and Landry, C. (1999) Balancing Act: 21 Strategic Dilemmas in Cultural Policy. Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Porter, M. (1999) The Competitive Advantage of Nations. New York: The Free Press. Švob-Dokić, N. (ed.) (2001) ‘Redefining Cultural Identities. Collection of Papers from the Course on Redefining Cultural Identities: Southeastern Europe’, Dubrovnik, 14–19 May 2000, Culturelink (Zagreb: Institute for International Relations). Pavlović, V. (ed.) (1995) Repressed Civil Society. Belgrade: Eko Center. Saez, J.-P. (2000) ‘From Cultural Pluralism to Otherness’, Observatoire Culture, http://www.observatoire-culture.net/pdf/JPSDelphes2GB.pdf (accessed on 15 January 2005). Smiers, J. (2003) Arts under Pressure. London: Oak Press. Stojanović, T. (1997) Balkanski svetovi, prva i poslednja Evropa. Beograd: Equilibrium. Šakaja, L. (2001) ‘Stereotipi mladih Zagrepˇcana o Balkanu – prilog prouˇcavanju imaginarne geografije’ (‘Stereotypes of Zagreb youth about Balkans – contribution to the study of imaginary geography’), Revija za sociologiju, vol. 32, no. 1–2. Weber, J.-I. (2004) Cultural Policy of Montenegro: Experts Report. Strasbourg: Council of Europe.

4 Perspectives on Cultural Diversity: A Discourse-Analytical Approach Nadia Kiwan and Ulrike Hanna Meinhof

Introduction In the European and British context, the much referred to concept of ‘cultural diversity’ and its equivalent in French and German is often evoked as complementary to, a synonym for, or an advance on, the similarly omnipresent term ‘multiculturalism’. This is mainly due to shifts in the perception of ethnically-marked difference in the postwar period. Particularly in the British context, these shifts were characterized by moving from a policy approach based on support for ‘ethnic minority’ cultures to multiculturalism, and then most recently to cultural diversity (Bennett, 2001: 58–9) In many different contexts, where metropolitan (as well as national and European) cultural policy engages with the relationship between people of different cultural backgrounds in European cities, cultural diversity seems to suggest a progressive, anti-discrimination agenda. However, when examined in more detail within the linguistic and pragmatic context of policy documentation and political debate, ‘cultural diversity’ becomes ambiguous, difficult to pin down, as well as contradictory. Whereas ‘multiculturalism’ discourses explicitly thematize questions of cultural coexistence or integration, and have been met with highly politicized support, critique or rejection, cultural diversity discourses are more fluid in their implications, and more in need of contextualizing within their respective political and cultural environments. Drawing upon key policy documents and political discussion produced at the European, national and metropolitan levels, we will explore in detail some of the linguistic and pragmatic contexts of cultural diversity and the semantic fields within which the term acquires its significance. Our aim is to examine the extent to which the multiple meanings of cultural diversity across 57

58 Perspectives on Cultural Diversity

the different levels and layers of policy and public debate in European nations, disguise or even potentially hinder and misdirect the discussion about greater transnational coexistence, which the earlier debates about multiculturalism had begun. Our critique is not intended as a defence of multiculturalism insofar as this has come to mean ‘a carnival of nations within nations’, but rather as a critique and clarification of the shifting term of ‘cultural diversity’. Over the last five years or so, there has been an increasing output of policy documents by a number of EU and international institutions which relate to culture. In this context the 1991 Maastricht Treaty should be seen as a key date. Chris Shore (2001) argues that it was at this time that culture became a hot topic. EU policy-makers had come to realize the potential mobilizing power of culture in the wider agenda of European integration. EU policy professionals would be able to endow European institutions with the legitimacy they lacked if they were able to draw on a European ‘culture’ shared by all EU subjects in both the citizen and passive sense (Shore, 2000: 31). Of course, what is actually understood by European culture is potentially problematic, and a rather taken-for-granted sense of Christian ‘white’ Europeanness seems to have dominated. More specifically, though, much of the increased cultural documentation output relates to cultural diversity in two often divergent and sometimes interrelating contexts, both of which are relevant to our study. The first policy context addresses cultural diversity from what Shore argues is essentially a Eurocentric perspective on culture as high culture (Shore, 2000): as a form of cultural, linguistic and artistic expression including the cultural industries. The second deals with it as a form of social engagement with diverse populations. This division, as we will show, already creates different implications for a coherent cultural diversity policy. Furthermore, and even more confusingly, the term can address a series of different constituencies: first, there is cultural diversity of different nations (also often confusingly termed as regions) within the EU or the Council of Europe: a macro-political understanding of diversity, aimed at retaining and protecting different cultural and linguistic traditions within the context of European integration and globalization. Certain EU member states, such as France for example, regard the context of globalization as a threat to diversity in the cultural industries, especially the audio-visual sector. Secondly, and related to the first – except here at a level below the nation-state – there is the cultural and linguistic diversity of the regions within the respective nation-states, where socalled ‘indigenous’ minorities such as the Welsh or the Basque are

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protected by EU policy. And finally there is the cultural diversity which is related to the discourses of multiculturalism, that is addressing cultural diversity as a result of migration of people from diverse ethnic backgrounds, usually originating from outside Europe. But as we shall see, this type of discourse remains marginal in the EU and some national contexts. Indeed, the focus on national and regional culture demonstrates how a ‘block’ notion of culture dominates European policy discourses. We shall now demonstrate these different divisions by drawing on examples from selected key documents in European, national and metropolitan policy-making. In the first part of the chapter we will concentrate on selected EU and international organizations’ stances on cultural diversity in so far as the concept relates specifically to culture. Then in the second part we will look at both EU and international organizations’ approaches to cultural diversity in relation to social issues. In the third part of the chapter we will shift from this European and international perspective and consider how the term cultural diversity is used (if at all) in two national and metropolitan contexts. Our case studies focus on France and Paris and Germany and Berlin.

Constructing European semantic fields The European Union and culture The problematic definitions of culture (Shore, 2001; Amin, 2004) become apparent when examining extracts from key policy documents, such as the European Constitution. Article III-280, which deals with culture, states that ‘The Union shall contribute to the flowering of cultures of the Member States, while respecting their national and regional diversity, and at the same time bringing the common cultural heritage to the fore.’ Just what this common cultural heritage is, is not developed. It does not appear to take postmigrant heritage into account as its focus remains regional and national. The European Commission Commonality, the nation and the region also feature in policy discourse relating to the arts as is apparent in the next document, A Community of Cultures: The European Union and the Arts (Belgium, 2002): The aims of the EU cultural policy are to bring out the common aspects of Europe’s heritage, enhance the feeling of belonging to one


and the same community, while recognising and respecting cultural, national and regional diversity, and helping cultures to develop and become more widely known. (Ibid., 5) Here diversity refers to the range of cultures and languages in Europe – that is, national and regional diversity within the European context. That there is such a thing as a European heritage is not problematized, it is presupposed (in the technical linguistic sense of a non-cancellable proposition; Levinson, 1983: chapter 4). The aim of the policy is simply to find the common aspects of this heritage so as to further a European identity. Given this transnational aim towards greater unity at European level, the document explicitly recognizes and respects cultural, national and regional diversity, but there is no explicit reference to the cultural diversity of the European (im-)migrant populations; that is, populations of ‘non-European’ background. Furthermore, the exact nature of ‘the one and same community’ to which belonging will be fostered is not exposed. The next extract extends protection of European cultural diversity to a wide range of cultural industries and cultural production within the context of the World Trade Organization: The EU has entered into no commitment to liberalise the audiovisual market, so as to retain its freedom of action in terms of preserving and promoting cultural diversity. (Ibid.) Note here the juxtaposition of ‘liberalise’, and ‘freedom’, two terms which semantically one would align in the same field. But of course here the term ‘liberalise’ stems from late twentieth-century neo-liberal discourses, where liberalizing the market is associated with removing any restrictions of capitalist trade. Hence it is not linked to the core meaning of liberal in the sense of freedom/ liberty. Cultural diversity in the context of EU enlargement The term cultural diversity is also used in the context of EU enlargement, and as Dragićević Šešić and Dragojević point out in Chapter 3 it has been used as ‘tool of influence’ or an assessment criterion for accession of new member states. The importance of cultural diversity within this context is evident in the next key document published by the European Commission in March 2004: Making Citizenship Work: Fostering European Culture and Diversity through Programmes for Youth, Culture, Audiovisual and Civic Participation (European Commission, March 2004). In this


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document, the concerns are focused on enlargement and the subsequent social, cultural and linguistic diversity; immigration flows and demographic change. Yet as can be seen below, cultural diversity is embedded in a discourse which utilizes a plethora of conservative watchwords – tolerance, solidarity, intercultural dialogue, European identity – taking for granted rather than challenging the existence of an underlying European culture and identity. Here, too, the notion of common values and heritage recurs frequently in this document. It is claimed that the following ‘common values’ are universal: human dignity, freedom, equality, solidarity, democracy and the rule of law. That these common values are linked to an implicit and rather taken for granted sense of Europeanness becomes even clearer in the following extract where commonality/common core values are juxtaposed to ‘other’ values and cultures in the context of immigration: The essential added value of cultural action at Community level is its contribution in terms of intercultural dialogue, raising awareness of a common European heritage, awareness of the diversity and richness of European cultures and increasing openness towards other cultures. (European Commission, March 2004: 9–10) The ‘diversity and richness of European cultures’ here again invokes a notion of indigenous European vs. ‘other’ cultures. It does not seem to embrace the diversity and richness of the cultures of all people living in Europe; that is, those of (post-) and non-‘European’ migrant cultures. Whilst for some member states migration is a new phenomenon, this is not true for many others: hence the juxtaposition of a European culture with openness to other cultures is surprising in its lack of complexity. Cultures here seem to be conceived as bounded units. Such an approach to culture cannot accommodate any notion that what defines culture may be a site for struggle in itself. For this reason, this example of EU policy discourse does not acknowledge that questions of culture and what defines it is inextricably linked to questions of power. (Shore, 2000: 23–4). Indeed, the EU slogan, ‘United in Diversity’, which is reiterated in the European Constitution, suggests that multiple identities are possible within the project of European union. However, the multiple identities that are being appealed to – national, regional, European – are heavily politicized and subject to a hierarchy of importance. Unification within diversity cannot, therefore, occur without a struggle (see Shore, 2000: 225).


European Parliament The European Parliament’s Committee on Culture, Youth, Education, the Media and Sport has also recently been very active in the field of cultural diversity. In December 2003, a Draft European Parliament Resolution on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity was published. Here it is clear that the interpretation of cultural diversity is very much concerned with the preservation of cultural industries in a context of globalization and US cultural hegemony. As the extracts below will demonstrate, such a protective understanding of cultural diversity has nothing whatsoever to do with the post-multiculturalist paradigm of interconnecting and hybrid cultural practices. In the draft resolution, cultural diversity should be seen as part of the wider debate about cultural industries and the concern that culture (arts) should not be commodified: … cultural diversity implies the recognition, promotion and development of local cultures, cultural industries, cultural public policies and openness towards other cultures and the protection of indigenous and national institutions and achievements, including the rich variety of languages, indigenous knowledge, traditions, lifestyles, expressions of art and culture, media pluralism and diversity of educational systems. (European Parliament, Draft European Parliament Resolution on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity in Report on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity: The Role of the European Regions and International Organizations such as UNESCO and the Council of Europe, December 2003: 8–9) The Chairman of the Committee which drafted the resolution was the French former Socialist Prime Minister, Michel Rocard. The committee was made up of 16 French members, and five representatives from the UK. In the above extract, the focus on indigenous and national cultures clearly leaves out migrant or post-migrant cultures/diversity. Cultures are once again seen as independent units – ‘local cultures’, ‘indigenous cultures’ and ‘other cultures’. And again, in the next extract, it is clear that cultural diversity is about preservation of cultural industries, not engagement with migrant origin populations: The long-term objective is for European and non-European actors to agree on the fundamental principle, enshrined in UNESCO’s Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity, that cultural goods and


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services ‘must not be treated as mere merchandise or consumer goods’ It has been argued before that the so-called cultural exception is not eternal, due to its limitation in time (5 years, renewable). The concept of cultural diversity, which over time gradually replaced it, would profit from being embedded in a legal approach within a more favourable environment. The initiative taken by Canada, France, Germany, Greece, Mexico, Monaco, Morocco and Senegal, supported by the French-speaking group of UNESCO, to place the item of a preliminary study on the technical and legal aspects relating to the desirability of an international Legal Instrument on Cultural Diversity, on the agenda of the forthcoming UNESCO General Conference is, therefore, very timely. (Ibid.: 15, 16, original text in bold) The prominence both of French and French-speaking partners in the Committee probably explains the approach to cultural diversity. It is perhaps not surprising then that the angle on cultural diversity is very similar to that taken by the French Ministry of Culture and Communication – that is, diversity relates here to the preservation of European cultural industries, thus reinforcing the notion of the existence of separate national and local cultures. As such, successive French governments have adopted a policy of exception culturelle in order to defend ‘French’ audiovisual production in the face of US dominance. Such an interpretation of cultural diversity does not at all engage with the new migrant and post-migrant cultures.

International organizations and the cultural Cultural diversity has also become increasingly visible in the wider international context. Both the Council of Europe and UNESCO have become reference points for debates on cultural diversity. Over the last five years or so, there has been an increasing output of policy documents by the Council of Europe with a focus on cultural diversity. Indeed, since the second summit of the Council in October 1997, cultural diversity has been signposted as one of the four strategic priorities along with democracy, human rights, social cohesion, and security of citizens. It is interesting to note here that social cohesion and cultural diversity are seen as complementary and not as in some of the detailed discussions of its publications, as potentially oppositional notions.


Council of Europe In 2000, the Council of Europe published a Declaration on Cultural Diversity (originally prepared by the Rapporteur Group on Education, Culture, Youth and Sport and adopted by the Committee of Ministers on 7 December 2000). This document set out a very broad definition of cultural diversity and framed it in terms of historically-embedded human rights: Recognising that respect for cultural diversity is an essential condition of human society … Cultural diversity is expressed in the co-existence and exchange of culturally different practices and in the provision and consumption of culturally different services and products. (Council of Europe, Committee of Ministers, 2000) Two remarks can be made about this extract. First, although in some British contexts, including that of our book, cultural diversity is considered as an advance on and critique of the term multiculturalism, the reference to the co-existence and exchange of different cultural practices in this document does seem to point to a rather mosaic-like imaginaire where different and bounded units of culture exist side by side and may at time engage in intercultural dialogue. Once again, the ‘block’ notion of culture is at work. Secondly, this use is similar to France’s use of the term in so far as it relates to an agenda of cultural protectionism. Furthermore, it is significant that in this document, cultural diversity is tied up with the ‘provision and consumption’ of diverse ‘products’. Is the experience of cultural diversity for European citizens merely a project of production and diffusion/consumption? Indeed, Shore (2000: 228–9) argues that most Europeans’ actual experience of cultural diversity is essentially about ‘European week-end breaks’ and buying the same consumer products as their European neighbours. EU institutions and the social From the discussion so far it has become clear that when diversity is evoked in either a cultural/arts-related context or in the macropolitical framework of EU integration and construction, it strikes a conservative and preservative note. However, in a social context – that is in policy documents and discourses relating to anti-discrimination and employment – the term is more progressive, that is it has less of a preservative quality.


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The European Commission – employment and social affairs There are a number of European Commission documents which are concerned with diversity. For example there is the document entitled Promoting Diversity which relates to anti-discrimination policies in the workplace. There are also a number of high profile EU-funded projects such as the scheme called Models for Diversity. Under this scheme, twenty-seven projects were funded and here diversity refers to ethnic diversity, sexual orientation and disability. International organizations and the social Council of Europe In 2001, the Council of Europe published a report entitled Diversity and Cohesion: New Challenges for the Integration of Immigrants and Minorities. This document has a more social slant than the Declaration on Cultural Diversity and focuses on integration, intercultural dialogues, recent immigrants and national minorities. Although cultural diversity is said to be a positive and historical contribution to European identity, it is nevertheless portrayed as something which could potentially threaten social cohesion. Hence integration emerges as a key concept: The present report on ‘diversity and cohesion in a changing Europe’ sets as a basic principle that integration of immigrants and national minorities is one of the pillars of social cohesion … Policies must therefore strike an effective balance between promoting diversity and maintaining cohesion. (Council of Europe, 2001: 10, 38) One can of course argue that a mosaic-like understanding of diversity whereby ‘communities’ are simply juxtaposed to one another could encourage societal fragmentation. However, it is difficult to ignore an implicit conservatism which can run through discourses of social cohesion, especially in relation to discourses of social inclusion. Indeed, Ruth Levitas argued that within the vocabulary of social inclusion, one finds: ‘a curious amalgam of a liberal, Anglo-Saxon concern with poverty and a more conservative, continental concern with moral integration and social order’ (Levitas, 1988: 22, cited in Bennett, 2001: 50). The report’s authors give a multiple definition to the term diversity, which is taken as a development from the former term, cultural pluralism. It is in this report where we find some of the more nuanced interpretations of cultural diversity, which also underpins the usage in some British/English policy documents on cultural diversity such as those


of the Arts Council. Yet there is little interlinking between the different strands within the document. The definitions are as follows: First, the term refers to the diversity of culture, in general, and not exclusively as the by-product of migratory movements and settled minority communities. Secondly, when the term is applied to immigrants and minorities, it emphasises the value and not the problems associated with being different. Third, diversity recognises the simultaneous processes of cultural homogenisation (a global culture) and diversification (national and local cultures). Fourth, it stresses the fact that people usually (and increasingly) possess multiple identities, group memberships and cultural affiliations. Fifth, diversity is about voluntary and less about prescribed affiliations. Sixth, diversity deals in a creative way with the dichotomy of universal and particular values and culture. Finally, common values shared by civil society underpin the concept of diverse societies. (Council of Europe, 2000: 38) It should be noted that in discourse relating to social questions, the appeal to common values (see sixth definition) is defended as a means of maintaining the social cohesion of civil society. Yet, even within the same document, such an appeal to common values does not apply to discourse which defends diversity in the realm of cultural industries. Rather, here, the notion of common values is explicitly confronted and attacked. So it would seem that ‘cultural diversity’ in the European context indexes three competing and in part at least mutually contradictory notions: 1 National diversity within the context of European Union construction and integration (a macro-political understanding of diversity). A sub-theme of this relates to cultural industry pluralism and the protection of cultural production through public culture policies in an internationally competitive context (a cultural industry understanding of diversity).


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2 Regional diversity (sub-national) – policies on multilingualism, ‘indigenous’ cultural and linguistic rights and so on. 3 A social understanding of diversity focusing on anti-discrimination policy in the world of work. This agenda relates to migrants and ethnic minorities. As such, there is little intersection between the political, cultural industry and social strands at the European level. The Council of Europe’s Council for Cultural Cooperation: the exception? Perhaps the only instance of an intersection between the social and cultural in terms of diversity is in a publication brought out by the Council of Europe’s Council for Cultural Cooperation. One of the recently-completed projects by the Council for Cultural Cooperation was the Transversal Studies scheme which looked at cultural policy and cultural diversity. The rationale for the transversal study is to be more effective and efficient than the national review surveys and bring out themes which are common to a number of European states. On the topic of cultural diversity, a transversal study of the following seven states was carried out: • • • • • • •

Austria Belgium Bulgaria Canada Luxembourg Switzerland United Kingdom

It is interesting to note here that some of the European ‘heavyweights’ – most notably France and Germany – are absent from this list. The view from the United Kingdom occupied quite a prominent position throughout this transversal study, not least because the author of the UK national report Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity (February 2001) was Naseem Khan of the Arts Council for England, but also because the final report was prepared by British sociologist Tony Bennett (Differing Diversities: Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity). The definition of cultural diversity in the study focused on historical patterns of migration in and across countries (‘contemporary’ diversity) as well as cultural diversity which had existed within different states for longer periods of time (‘historical’ diversity). Unlike the other European and international


policy documents discussed above, the Differing Diversities report clearly articulates that the theme of cultural diversity can relate to a number of policy contexts: civic, administrative, social, cultural, economic and conceptual. The importance of explicitly anchoring diversity policy in the social stems from the fear that otherwise: ‘this would be to make an absolute value or fetish out of difference’ (Bennett, 2001: 49). This position contrasts with some of the national policy stances on cultural diversity – where difference becomes a key concept, as we shall see below.

From the European to the national and metropolitan levels: shifting semantic fields in France and Germany France and Germany Given these multiple meanings of diversity it is intriguing to note the ways in which they are being taken up or ignored by different institutions in the national context. (For further discussion of how key watchwords get ‘translated’ differently in various national contexts, see Chapter 3, Imagined or Real Divides?.) The idea that most Europeans’ actual experience of cultural diversity stops at the consumption of similar products and holidays may have something to do with the fact that debates around diversity still tend to be dominated by national concerns. For example, the term cultural diversity is predominantly used in France in the realm of cultural (arts) policy in a very specific way – it relates to the preservation of pluralism in the cultural industries (especially the audiovisual sector). It is rarely used in the social domain, where immigration intersects with terms such as exclusion/inclusion or integration rather than with cultural diversity. If we take the same time-frame of approximately the last five years to look at policy statements in France in the area of cultural diversity, it becomes clear that the concept has been used to govern debates about the defence of the French language and cultural production in a context of US-led homogenization of cultures and cultural industries. There has been remarkable continuity between different Ministries of Culture – the last few ministers of culture and communication, Catherine Tasca, Catherine Trautman (who both represented left-wing coalition governments), Jean-Jacques Aillagon and Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres have all argued that the protection of cultural diversity is about France and other non-English speaking countries defending their cultural productions’ distinctiveness in an international and US-dominated framework.


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A speech to the National Assembly in November 1999, by the then Minister of Culture and Communication, Catherine Trautmann, makes it clear that for the French government the notion of cultural diversity is very much tied to the context of globalization and the World Trade Organization’s influence on cultural production: Globalization threatens cultural identities and, if we’re not careful, it will engender a cultural standardisation, the uniformisation of behaviours and lifestyles. Of course it is important to promote values and references that are common to humanity as a whole but … without forgetting the respect for identities, and without neglecting the richness and diversity of cultures. (Trautman, 1999)1 Intriguingly, we find here an appeal to respect identities even though normally French Republican discourse tends to be rather wary of so- called ‘identity politics’. Closely linked to this interpretation and use of the term cultural diversity is of course the notion of l’exception culturelle. In fact, French governments have shifted their discourse from exception culturelle, which was sometimes interpreted by observers as French cultural elitism, to diversité culturelle. However, cultural exception is still very much at the heart of the French perspective which argues that culture and cultural production should be protected from the vagaries of the free market in order to stimulate creativity and stem US domination in the cultural industries: ‘Cultural exception’ is therefore, in my opinion, the non-negotiable legal means of achieving the objective of cultural diversity. (Trautmann, 1999)2 In May 2000, the next Minister of Culture, Catherine Tasca also clearly pointed to the context of globalization as a threat to cultural diversity in an international framework: In a context of the globalization of exchange, at a time when the almost unbridled development of the market, of cultural products and services could lead to a homogenisation of artistic creation and cultural practices, it seems to me to be necessary for the State, in our country’s case, to strive to preserve and promote cultural diversity … It is finally in the theatre of international competition that we must defend the effective right to cultural diversity. (Tasca, 2000)3


A number of Ministers of Culture have evoked the UNESCO Declaration on Cultural Diversity (2 November 2001) to back up their position and frame it in terms of human rights. For example, Tasca uses the UNESCO declaration to strengthen her position: The term ‘cultural diversity’ is more recent. It is the fruit of reflections within the UNESCO context, from the Stockholm conference in 1998, onwards. This new notion is positive: it expresses the desire to preserve all the cultures of the world. (Tasca, 2000)4 Similarly, in a speech by the previous Minister of Culture Jean-Jacques Aillagon in August 2002 he cited the UNESCO claim that it is the right of each individual to be able to create and diffuse cultural works in the language of their choice, especially their native language.5 There is remarkable continuity between governments as becomes evident if we consider the next extract from a communiqué made by Jean-Jacques Aillagon: Working to share the idea that cultural products are not simply merchandise, destined to become uniformised according to the will and advance of globalisation, France has always actively engaged in favour of cultural diversity. (Aillagon, 2002)6 The areas which are highlighted as being concerned with the question of cultural diversity are as follows: cultural industries, music, publishing, television, creation and linguistic diversity; the latter reaffirming the importance of the French language at the international level. Significantly, however, France has not ratified the European Charter on Regional and Minority Languages. Indeed, as Rachel Hoare points out, there has been an explicit language policy in France since the sixteenth century, by which the French language has been regarded by governments as the symbol of the unity of the French nation whilst also guaranteeing equality for all its citizens. (Hoare, 2000: 325). This policy was reinforced in 1992 when the Constitution affirmed that French was the language of the Republic, and that regional languages were part of its heritage. The European Charter for Regional and Minority Languages has been available for member states to sign since 1992. Whether France should sign the Charter became the object of a lively public debate in France but it was finally signed by the government on 7 May 1999. France adopted 39 articles out of the Charter’s 98 (the minimum requirement was to adopt 35 articles). However, in June 1999, the President of the Republic Jacques


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Chirac declared that ratification of the Charter would be unconstitutional since the Charter confirms the right to use regional or minority languages in the private and public sphere (whereas the French constitution only provided for private-sphere usage). Chirac’s declaration meant that regional and minority languages would continue to be regarded as ‘heritage’ languages rather than public-sphere languages. (Hoare, 2000). Since the new Culture Minister, Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres, became Minister of Culture in 2004 there has been little change in approach to cultural diversity. It is still essentially pitched at the international level. Indeed, shortly after being nominated as the new Minister of Culture in March 2004, Donnedieu de Vabres spoke at an international conference on cultural diversity; interestingly the conference was organized for ministers of foreign trade, and de Vabres argued that cultural diversity was an important economic issue. Despite a brief and somewhat vague reference to cultural diversity, which could possibly be construed as taking into account ‘contemporary’, postmigrant diversity the perspective of de Vabre’s speech remained resolutely national and European (‘It is a question of recognizing that everyone, each people, has the right to cultivate their identity, without retreating into that identity. It is a question of affirming the equal dignity of cultures. It is, basically about strongly affirming the values of liberty, respect for the Other and pluralism.’7 ). He praised the European Constitution slogan ‘United in diversity’ and the European Union as the main tool by which cultural diversity should be upheld: What can offer the world a better symbol than this great, enlarged Europe, which shares a common civilization, and is rich in its regional and national diversity? … I think that only Europe can help us preserve the diversity of our national cultures in the face of unchecked globalization. (Donnedieu de Vabres, 2004)8 Yet again, a ‘block’ understanding of culture is prevalent. UNESCO is also regarded by Donnedieu de Vabres as a key institution for the defence of state sovereignty in the culture sector. Indeed, his Ministry argues for ‘the unequivocal affirmation of the right of States to develop cultural policies’ and is in favour of using the International Court of Justice as an instrument of legal recourse for states which feel threatened (Donnedieu de Vabres, 2004b).9 However, what is interesting about the French case, is the recent emergence of a discourse of diversity which does explicitly engage with ethnic minorities, or with people of a migrant background on issues


relating to their representation in the media, industry and the public sector. Since 2002, a number of reports have been commissioned by Raffarin’s government, the aim being to work towards a more effective equal opportunities policy. This effort has seen the development of rather un-Republican buzzwords such as ‘action positive’ or ‘mobilisation positive’ – notions which are clearly borrowed and adapted from the previously reviled ‘American’ positive discrimination. However, the government department which has been the most active in this domain has been the Ministry of Social Affairs. The new Plan de cohésion sociale (published in 2004) has invited companies to adopt a new Charter for Diversity: here the promotion of diversity is understood in terms of taking action to favour the recruitment and promotion of an ethnically, socially and culturally diverse workforce. The need to promote better representation of ‘visible’ minorities in the media, and particularly on public-sector television, is also an area which has very recently seen the development of diversity discourse. The Haut Conseil à l’intégration organized a symposium at the Institut du Monde Arabe (Paris) on the question in April 2004. The symposium, which was called ‘Écrans pâles? Diversité culturelle et culture commune dans les médias’ (Pale Screens? Cultural Diversity and Common Culture in the Media) was also co-organized by the Conseil supérieur de l’audiovisuel (Audiovisual authority) and the Fonds d’action et de soutien pour l’intégration et la lutte contre les discriminations (FASILD or the ‘Fund for action and support of integration and the fight against discrimination’). The French Ministry of Culture and Communication was not an organizer. The Minister of Culture, Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres, was present. However, the speech he made there reveals the stance of his Ministry with this sort of diversity discourse: namely it is of some interest but does not constitute the core of diversity policy in the culture sector. The fact that de Vabres claimed: ‘I’m counting a lot on your work, and will keep myself closely informed about it’ marks a stark difference from his speeches on cultural diversity and the preservation of French cultural industries and seems to indicate an arm’s-length interest.10 Furthermore, in his address, de Vabres did not once use the term diversité culturelle, instead opting for ‘diversity of talent, … of identities, roots, geographical and social origins, and of traditions’.11 This is significant, as it seems to suggest that the cultural realm is concerned only with the arts. Although the Ministry of Culture and Communication is involved with the establishment of the future Cité nationale de l’histoire de l’intégration, which is due to open to the public in 2007, it nevertheless will shoulder the responsibility with the Ministry of Social Cohesion and


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the Ministry of Education and Research. This permanent cultural institution, which signifies the official recognition of immigrants’ contributions to France, concerns all three ministries. However, in financial terms the contribution of the Ministry of Culture is the smallest (3 per cent).12 Whilst this innovative project is clearly an example of how cultural policies can impact on the public sphere and public perception, it does not come under the cultural diversity rubric of the Ministry of Culture. The metropolitan level At the metropolitan level in France – that is at the level of the politicallysignificant City administration in Paris – there has been evidence of use of the concept of cultural diversity. For example, it was used in a key document recently published by the Mission Intégration for the City – yet, interestingly enough, it was used as a synonym for mosaicstyle multiculturalism, which differs from its use in the British/English context. In debates about cultural/arts policy at the City level, we also find occurrences of the term cultural diversity which are used in relation to cosmopolitan internal diversity, rather than in terms of the maintenance of diversity in the field of cultural industries. However, even if cultural diversity is used in this metropolitan as opposed to national/international perspective, its usage is rare and in the documentation and interviews with policymakers in the Department of Cultural Affairs, the term was not generally employed. Germany In German debates, discourses about cultural diversity (kulturelle Vielfalt) and multiculturalism (Multikulturalismus) overlap in their cultural and social implications. Depending on the political view of the commentator, multiculturalism is a feature of a pluralist society, and compatible with a view of Germany as a ‘Zuwanderungsland’ – a country of migration, or ‘Einwanderungsland’ – a country of immigration. Or it is inimical to social cohesion, leading to a relativization of the values which are said to underpin the ‘Leitkultur’. The acceptability or non-acceptability of multiculturalism as a form of cultural diversity for Germany has divided opinion around the much debated notion of a German or European ‘Leitkultur’. This concept of a ‘leading culture’ supposedly shared by all Germans which arises out of a shared history, of German intellectual and artistic achievement, a set of shared (Western) social and cultural values, as well as rules of social behaviour and to which all residents,


old or new, must respect and subscribe to, has polarized political and public debate for at least half a decade. It continues to be invoked – implicitly or explicitly – in all political discussions about integration, and the rights of residence or citizenship, for old as well as new (im-) migrants. Hence for understanding the German context, there is no need to go beyond the notion of multiculturalism – though in some discussions the distinction between multiculturalism as a complement to integration into German society, and multiculturalism as an acceptance of difference without integrational aims, has been referred to as liberal vs. radical multiculturalism (Loeffler, 2001: 25). Extracts from the Leitkultur debate The following two extracts typically demonstrate the oppositional ways in which this debate was and continues to be framed. The first stems from one of the instigators and key proponents of the concept of Leitkultur, Bassam Tibi, author of ‘Islamische Einwanderung: Die gescheiterte Integration’ (‘Islamic Immigration: The Failed Integration’) and places migration into the context of threats to the internal security for which an integration into a ‘Leitkultur’ based on ‘European’ values could provide an answer. Tibi was born in Syria and is now Professor of Political Science at the University of Göttingen. The extracts were published in an article he wrote for the conservative daily Die Welt (15 April 2002, entitled ‘Leitkultur und innere Sicherheit. Zu Zuwanderung und europäischen Werten’ (Leading culture and internal security. About migration and European values): In the debate about migration in Germany two aspects of migration are mostly neglected. First that it is not only workers who are coming into this country. But it is people who are coming and who bring with them their potential for conflicts … The second aspect is the integration of the migrants. Between these two there is a connection insofar as integration of migrants promises to decrease the risk to security.13 Tibi here typically poses migrants per se as a risk to internal security which can only be overcome if they are willing to integrate. The quote is an intriguing reference and one imagines a deliberate reversal of an often-cited comment by the Swiss author Max Frisch, who in the 1960s criticized the illiberal attitude of West German society to its migrant workers (‘guest-workers’/Gastarbeiter) by saying ‘We were calling for workers, but it was people who came’ (Man hat Arbeitskräfte gerufen


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und es sind Menschen gekommen). Whereas Frisch was pointing to the humanity of the migrants which was not recognized by the host country, Tibi sees them as a potential danger since they are likely to bring ‘home-grown’ conflicts to Germany. Interestingly, to Tibi it is not enough that migrants can speak German and accept the Constitution. These two central conditions are inscribed into the recent Citizenship Law of 2000 (Staatsangehörigkeitsrecht) and the additional Migration Law (Zuwanderungsgesetz) ratified in 2004, which finally replaced ‘jus sanguinis’ by ‘jus soli’, granting citizenship to all German-born citizens, and allowing applications for German citizenship from non-German born citizens after eight years of residence. According to Tibi, neither knowledge of German nor loyalty to the constitution (Verfassungspatriotismus) is relevant, but the relativization of values which comes from multiculturalism, ‘Wertebeliebigkeit’: The problem is not language but the relativisation of values. It points to the inability of the receiving society to integrate and to offer models. For years now I have been warning against the relativisation of multiculturalisms and have asked that we should learn from other Western countries. It is in this context of a clear orientation of values for Europe that I make use of the term Leitkultur. With this I mean the value orientation which supports integration which every society needs. Leitkultur is the opposite of relativity of values. For Germany the Leitkultur of integration must be decidedly European. With this understanding my demand goes beyond loyalty to the Constitution. Because Leitkultur attacks the relativity of values. Multiculturalism implies relativization of values, where everyone can do as they please.14 Other exponents of the term Leitkultur, especially some of the more right-wing members of the CDU (most notably Jörg Schönbohm, former Minister of the Interior in Berlin) define it even more narrowly as based on Christian values and German cultural heritage (see also the discussion in Bloomfield, 2003: 174). What is common to all the proponents of Leitkultur is the sense that there is a dominant culture with a homogeneous set of values – however defined – to which migrants have to conform. Multiculturalism is considered to be inimical to this since it challenges this homogeneity and replaces it by variation and acceptance of difference. The onus for integration is placed entirely on the migrants. By contrast, those who


strongly oppose the notion of a Leitkultur do not pose social integration in opposition to multiculturalism. Rather they see multiculturalism as an accepted state of modern German society which all citizens in Germany need to accept. In this view, integration requires a learning process from everyone. The first quotes below come from a speech held by Marieluise Beck, Federal Commisioner for Migration, Refugees and Integration in 2000: The German’ against whom the integration achievements of migrants would have to be measured does not exist. Such an understanding of integration remains caught in the outdated image of the ethnically and culturally homogeneous nation. In fact we live in a society in which a multitude of life styles and life projects exist side by side. Thus integration cannot and must not mean assimilation, but means the continuous process of coming to an understanding regarding the shared foundations and rules of living together in a social formation. In this sense integration is a societal process which never comes to an end, but which has to be promoted again and again. This integration is not directed at the immigrant population alone. It is not a one-way street, but is relevant to each and every individual in our society.15 (Speech by Beck, 8 September 2000) And on 28 October 2003, a joint position paper by Beck’s Federal Commission for Migration, Refugees and Integration and the main Associations of Non-governmental Social Services (freie Wohlfahrtspflege) defines the requirements for a modern politics of immigration as follows: Integration requires a fundamental political decision to acknowledge the cultural heterogeneity of our society. The fact that we are an immigration society has to become visible in institutional form as well through an intercultural opening of all services and social institutions, especially of schools. Within this process of adaptation which services and institutions have to undergo, the task is to acknowledge migrants with their individual and cultural needs, and at the same time accept them as citizens, clients, users and customers with equal rights.16 (Beauftragte der Bundesregierung für Migration, Flüchtlinge und Integration, 28 October 2003) In the German case, the extracts we have presented represent oppositional stances where debates about Leitkultur or a multicultural or


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culturally diverse society are brought into play for the central German preoccupation with citizenship and integration for its migrant and postmigrant populations. These arguments are found across all levels of political and public debate, uniting or dividing public opinion at national, federal state and municipal level.

Concluding remarks So what are the challenges in the European context? The very diversity of interpretation and an element of instrumentalization of the term means that populations of immigrant origin are not benefiting from the potential progressiveness of the concept of cultural diversity. The cultural diversity so esteemed by the EU means that member states are ‘doing their own thing’ as far as diversity is concerned. In Britain diversity means one thing, whilst in France it means another. In Germany debates are still on the very basic level of whether or not there is any justification for a multicultural society in the first place. To allow for a fruitful and informed debate on cultural diversity and multiculturalism across all the different member states of the EU and between policy-makers and citizens, we will need a much clearer understanding of these key concepts and their implications. Across all the different lingusitc and policy contexts they must be made to reference the same sets of issues. Only if the full implications for social and cultural policy at transnational, national and regional/metropolitan levels are spelled out and shared in open discussion rather than presupposed, implied or hidden in the rhetoric of highly ambiguous cultural diversity discourses, will the citizens and policy-makers of Europe be able to engage with one another on these essential issues. Notes 1 Speech by Catherine Trautmann to the National Assembly during a conference on the World Trade Organization, 9 November, 1999, in Philippe Poirrier (ed.), Les politiques culturelles en France (Paris: La Documentation Française, 2002: 562). Original text: ‘La mondialisation menace les identités culturelles et, si l’on y prend garde, engendrera une standardisation culturelle, l’uniformisation des comportements et des modes de vie. Il importe certes de promouvoir des valeurs et des références communes à l’ensemble de l’humanité mais … sans oublier le respect des identités, sans négliger la richesse de la diversité des cultures’ (all translations are authors’ own unless otherwise stated). 2 Ibid., p. 564. Original text: ‘L’ “exception culturelle” est donc le moyen juridique, à mes yeux non négociable, d’atteindre l’objectif de diversité culturelle.’

78 Perspectives on Cultural Diversity 3 Speech by Catherine Tasca to the National Assembly (Parliament), 3 May 2000. Original Text: ‘Dans un contexte de globalisation des échanges, à l’heure où le développement sans frein – ou presque – du marché, des biens et des services culturels pourrait tendre à homogénéiser la création artistique et les pratiques culturelles, il me paraît nécessaire que l’Etat, s’agissant de notre pays, s’attache à préserver et à promouvoir la diversité culturelle … C’est enfin sur le théâtre de la concurrence internationale que nous devons défendre le droit effectif à la diversité culturelle.’ 4 Ibid., p. 564. Original text: ‘L’expression “diversité culturelle’ est plus récente. Elle est le fruit de réflexions dans le cadre de l’UNESCO depuis la conférence de Stockholm en 1998. Cette nouvelle notion est positive, elle exprime la volonté de préserver toutes les cultures du monde …’ 5 Speech by M. Aillagon, ‘La diversité culturelle, une ambition française’. Speech made to Council of Ministers, 29 August, 2002. (Speech accessed on www.culture.gouv.fr, dossier thématique diversité culturelle, textes de référence section.) 6 Ibid.,: ‘Oeuvrant à faire partager l’idée que les biens culturels ne sont pas de simples marchandises, vouées à s’uniformiser au gré des progrès de la mondialisation, la France s’est en effet toujours engagée activement en faveur de la diversité culturelle.’ 7 Speech made by Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres, at an International Conference on Cultural Diversity with foreign trade ministers and civil servants of the ten new EU member states, 2 July 2004. (Speech accessed on www.culture.gouv.fr, dossier thématique diversité culturelle). Original text: ‘Il s’agit de reconnaître à chacun, à chaque peuple, le droit de cultiver son identité sans pour autant tomber dans le repli identitaire. Il s’agit d’affirmer l’égale dignité des cultures. Il s’agit, au fond, d’affirmer avec force les valeurs de liberté, de respect de l’autre et de pluralisme.’ 8 Ibid., Original text: ‘Qui peut offrir meilleur symbole pour le monde que cette grande Europe élargie issue d’une même civilisation, et riche de sa diversité nationale et régionale? … Je crois que seule l’Europe peut nous aider à préserver la diversité de nos cultures nationales face à une mondialisation mal maîtrisée.’ 9 Speech made by Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres at the 7th annual meeting of the RIPC (Réseau international sur la politique culturelle/International Network of Cultural Policy) (Shanghai, 15 October 2004). Original text: ‘l’affirmation sans aucune ambiguïté du droit des Etats à développer des politiques culturelles.’ 10 The speech made by Donnedieu de Vabres at the ‘Pale Screens? Cultural Diversity and Common Culture in the Media’ Conference, Institut du Monde Arabe, April 2004, is contained in the Report of Haut Conseil à l’Intégration to Prime Minister Raffarin, Diversité culturelle et culture commune dans l’audiovisuel (Paris, 17 March 2005: 70). Original text: ‘je compte beaucoup sur vos travaux, dont je me tiens étroitement informé’. 11 Ibid., p. 70. Original text: ‘diversité des talents … des identities, des racines, des origines géographiques et sociales, et des traditions’. 12 Jacques Toubon, Mission de préconfiguration du centre de ressources et de mémoire de l’immigration (Report to the Prime Minister) (Paris: La Documentation Française, 2004: 44).


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13 ‘Zwei Gesichtspunkte der Migration finden in Deutschland bei seiner Zuwanderungsdebatte kaum Berücksichtigiung. Erstens, dass man dem Land nicht nur Arbeitskräfte zuführt. Es sind Menschen, die kommen und ihre Konfliktpotentiale mitbringen … Der zweite Gesichtspunkt ist die Integration der Zuwanderer. Zwischen beiden Gesichtspunkten besteht insofern ein Zusammenhang, als die Integration der Migranten eine Verringerung der Sicherheitsrisiken verspricht.’ 14 ‘Problem ist nicht die Sprache, sondern die Wertebeliebigkeit. Hierin wird die Unfähigleit der Aufnahmegesellschaft zu integrieren und Leitbilder zu bieten, deutlich. Seit Jahren warne ich vor Multikulti-Wertebeliebigkeit und fordere von anderen westlichen Ländern zu lernen … In diesem Zusammenhang verwende ich im Hinblick auf ene klare Werteorientierung für Europa den Begriff Leitkultur. Ich verstehe darunter eine der Integration dienende Werteorientierung die jede Gesellschaft benötigt. Leitkultur steht im Gegensatz zum Begriff der Wertebeliebigkeit … Für Deutschland muss die Leitkultur der Integration betont europäisch sein. Mit diesem Vorverständnis geht meine Forderung über einen reinen Verfassungspatriotismus hinaus. Denn die Leitkultur wednet sich gegen jede Multi-Kulti- Beliebigkeit. Multikulti bedeutet Wertebeliebigkeit, bei der jeder machen kann, was er will.’ 15 ‘“Den Deutschen”, an dem sich die Integrationsleistgen von Migranten messen lassen müssten, gibt es nicht. Ein solches Verständnsi von Integration bleibt im überkommenen Bild der ethnisch und kulturell homogenen Nation verfangen. Tatsächlich leben wir in einer Gesellschaft, in der eine Vielzahl von Lebensstilen und Lebensentwürfen nebeneinander existieren. Integration kann und darf daher nicht Assimilierung bedeuten, sondern meint den beständigen Prozess der Verständigung über die gemeinsamen Grundlagen und Regeln des Zusammenlebens in einem Gemeinwesen. In diesem Sinne ist Integration ein gesellschaftlicher Prozess, der nicht irgendwann abgeschlossen ist, sondern immer wieder neu gefördert werden muss. Integration richtet sich damit auch nicht allein an die zugewanderte Bevölkerung. Sie ist keine Einbahnstrae, sondern bezieht sich letzlich auf jeden Einzelnen in unserer Gesellschaft.’ 16 ‘Integration bedarf der politischen Grundentscheidung, die kulturelle Heterogenität unserer Gesellschaft anzuerkennen. Die Tatsache, dass wir Einwanderungsgesellschaft sind, muss durch die ‘interkulturelle Öffnung’ aller Dienste und gesellschaftlichen Institutionen, insbesondere der Schulen, auch institutionell sichtbar werden. In diesem Anpassungsprozess, den Einrichtungen und Insitutionen zu vollziehen haben, gilt es Migranten und Migrantinnen mit ihren individuellen und kulturellen Bedürfnissen wahrzunehmen und sie gleichzeitig als gleichberechtigte Bürgerinnen und Bürger, Klienten, Nutzer und Kunden zu akzeptieren.’

References Amin, A. (2004) ‘Multiethnicity and the Idea of Europe’, Theory, Culture and Society, vol. 21, no. 2: 1–24. Bennett, T. (2001) Differing Diversities: Transversal Study of the Theme of Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Publishing.

80 Perspectives on Cultural Diversity Bloomfield, J. (2003) ‘ “Made in Berlin”: Multicultural Conceptual Confusion and Intercultural Reality’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 9, no. 2 (July): 167–83. Hoare, R. (2000) ‘Linguistic Competence and Regional Identity in Brittany: Attitudes and Perceptions of Identity’, Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, vol. 21, no. 4: 324–46. Levinson, S.C. (1983) Pragmatics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Löffler, B. (2001) ‘Welche Integration? Eine Begriffserklärung nach der Diskussion um die deutsche Leitkultur’, Inhalt PM 375: February. Shore, C. (2000) Building Europe: The Cultural Politics of European Integration. London: Routledge. Shore, C. (2001) ‘The Cultural Policies of the European Union and Cultural Diversity’, in T. Bennett (ed.), Differing Diversities: Transversal Study of the Theme of Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity. Council of Europe Publishing.

Policy documents Diversité culturelle et culture commune dans l’audiovisuel, Report of Haut Conseil à l’Intégration to Prime Minister J.P. Raffarin (Paris, 17 March 2005). Treaty Establishing a Constitution for Europe (16 December 2004 O.J. C310). Making Citizenship Work: Fostering European Culture and Diversity through Programmes for Youth, Culture, Audiovisual and Civic Participation (Brussels: European Commission, March 2004). Toubon, J. Mission de préconfiguration du centre de ressources et de mémoire de l’immigration (Rapport au Premier Ministre) (Paris: La Documentation Française, 2004). Draft European Parliament Resolution on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity in Report on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity: The Role of the European Regions and International Organisations such as UNESCO and the Council of Europe (European Parliament, December 2003; 2002/2269). Joint position paper by Marieluise Beck, Federal Commissioner Migration, Refugees and Integration and Main Associations of Non-governmental Social Services (28 October 2003). A Community of Cultures: The European Union and the Arts (Brussels: The European Commission, 2002). Unesco Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity (France: Unesco, 2002) Declaration on Cultural Diversity (Council of Europe, Committee of Ministers, 2000). Diversity and Cohesion: New Challenges for the Integration of Immigrants and Minorities (Council of Europe, 2001).

Speeches La Diversité culturelle, une ambition française, Speech by Jean-Jacques Aillagon, Minister of Culture and Communication, to Council of Ministers, 29 August 2002. (Speech accessed on www.culture.gov.fr, dossier thématique diversité culturelle, textes de référence, 24 June 2005) Speech made by Marieluise Beck, 8 September 2000 (accessed on internet, and made available in print by her Ministry).


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Speech by Catherine Tasca, Minister of Culture and Communication, to the Assemblée nationale (Parliament), 3 May 2000, in P. Poirrier (ed.), Les politiques culturelles en France (Paris: La Documentation Française, 2002). Speech by Catherine Trautmann, Minister of Culture and Communication, to l’Assemblée nationale (Parliament) at conference on the World Trade Organisation, 9 November 1999, in P. Poirrier (ed.), Les politiques culturelles en France (Paris: La Documentation Française, 2002). Speech given by Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres at International Conference on Cultural Diversity with Foreign Trade Ministers and civil servants of the 10 new EU member states, 2 July 2004 (speech accessed on www.culture.gouv.fr, dossier thématique diversité culturelle, 24 June 2005). Speech given by Renaud Donnedieu de Vabres at the 7th annual meeting of the RIPC (Réseau international sur la politique culturelle/International Network of Cultural Policy) (Shanghai, 15 October 2004) (speech accessed on www.culture. gouv.fr, dossier thématique diversité culturelle, 24 June 2005).

Newspaper articles Tibi, Bassam, ‘Leitkultur und innere Sicherheit. Zu Zuwanderung und europäischen Werten’ (Leading Culture and internal security. On Migration and European values’), Die Welt, 15 April 2002.


Part II Urban and Metropolitan Perspectives


5 London and the Project of Urban Cosmopolitanism Asu Aksoy

Introduction In their introduction to the special issue of Public Culture on cities and citizenship, James Holston and Arjun Appadurai were situating cities as ‘especially privileged sites for considering the current negotiations of citizenship’ (Holston and Appadurai, 1996: 188). They urged for further investigation ‘which considers that cities are challenging, diverging from, and even replacing nations as the important space of citizenship – as the lived space not only of its uncertainties but also of its emergent forms’ (ibid.). Their main argument was that the transnational flow of ideas, goods, images, and persons … tends to drive a deeper wedge between national space and its urban centres. There are a growing number of societies in which cities have a different relationship to global processes than the vision and policies of their nation-states may admit or endorse. London today is a global city in many ways that do not fit with the politics of the United Kingdom. (Holston and Appadurai, 1996: 189) In this chapter I want to discuss the nature of this growing wedge between the national and the urban, taking the case of London as my focus. One such divergence concerns the increasing worldliness of cities such as London on the one hand, and the fixation of national political discourse on cohesion and boundary maintenance on the other. Major cities are opening up to the world and becoming fuzzy in terms of their imagined boundaries, however, this is taking place within national contexts where, more often than not, national discourse centres on inclusiveness and social cohesion, pushing for policy implementations towards tighter understandings of national sovereignty (arguments in 85

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favour of cultural exceptionalism is a good case in point here). However, complicating this seemingly polarized situation is the growing awareness by nation-state bodies of the increasing importance of economic liberalization and of globalization for the economic prosperity of the nation as a whole. In national policy terms, there is the constant requirement now to mediate between national sovereignty and global economic interests. James Holston and Arjun Appadurai argue that this mediation process gives rise to a multiplicity of forms of citizenship which ‘delegitimates the national justice system and its framework of uniform law, both hallmarks of national citizenship’ (Holston and Appadurai, 1996: 199). We could perhaps point out also that with cities increasingly shaped by transnational mobility and global exposure, they can no longer be assumed to be the breeding ground for citizenship practices as commonly understood within the terms of the national project. Cities like London are now finding themselves linked into complicated networks of flows. London is a city shaped and extended in space by many different kinds of mobilities, from cross-border flows of people to global flows of commodities and information. Cities like London are less and less defined by territorial locality and the bounded concepts of culture. These are the grounds where the multiple trans-boundary processes and flows that characterize the contemporary moment are being played out. The contemporary city, as Saskia Sassen has argued, ‘is once again emerging as a strategic site for understanding major new trends that are configuring the social order’ (Sassen, 2000: 143). As Engin Isin puts it: [g]lobal city-regions give us not only the geographic metaphors with which we think about the social world, but also the concrete sites in which to investigate the complex relays of post-modernization and globalisation that engender spaces for new identities and projects which modernization either contained or prohibited, and generate new citizenship rights and obligations. (Isin, 2000: 3) In the context of the new order of complexity being brought about by the processes of movement and globalization, cities like London provide a crucial framework to re-think the changing nature of urbanity and the nature of the growing wedge between the nation and the city. What I want to argue, though, is that we are beginning to see a new agenda that is attempting to drive out this wedge between the national and the urban by means of imagining the urban as a nation writ large. This is what is behind the evolving New Labour fascination with ‘new

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localism’ in the British context (Travers, 2005). In the following sections, I will try to show how this ‘new localism’ discourse is an attempt at matching nation-driven concerns on inclusiveness and social cohesion with urban globalism that proceeds through diversity, transnational mobility, flexibility and openness. I will then go on to argue that this new localism, as long as it treats cities as fixed and territorially bounded places and imagines the city in terms of a community paradigm where a sense of belonging lies at its heart, will fail to provide an adequate understanding of the changes implicated in the increasing globalism and world-openness of cities. It is clear that we need a turn of imagination of the urban away from a politics of community and belonging towards a more cosmopolitan understanding of urbanity. This imagination need not be an abstract one, though. If we tune into what has been happening in urban spaces, we will find new political and social practices (going beyond city or nation-state boundaries) that urgently need to be described. I will use London to begin this descriptive process using such concepts like world-openness. I will argue that the worldopenness of cities may give us the clues in terms of thinking about the ingredients for a cosmopolitan politics. In Rainer Bauböck’s words, ‘[n]ew forms of urban citizenship might promote a cosmopolitan transformation of national conceptions of membership from below and from within’ (Bauböck, 2003: 142).

New localism Earlier, I referred to a new agenda that is attempting to address the growing incongruity between the politics of the nation-state – with its emphasis on social cohesion and integration – and the practices of citizenship as they crystallize in major urban centres. What has been happening, in response to the realization that national-level politics is losing its appeal and legitimacy gauged by the increasing voter apathy, and the concomitant acceptance that it is at the local level where business of everyday life gets done and where therefore active citizenship practices flourish, is that the local is beginning to be invested with the function of containment that the national frame provided until very recently. This is what the ‘new localism’ is trying to address. ‘Neighbourhood government’, says Travers, ‘and other policies, such as increasing the number of directly elected mayors and, possibly, introducing government at the city region level, are now seen as building blocks in a radical solution to the problems of English/British democracy’ (ibid.). Hence, in Britain, the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister’s two


recent consultative policy documentations (Sustainable Communities, and Citizens’ Engagement and Public Services, both published in 2005) are illustrations of this change in policy towards prioritizing local governance as a solution to the crisis of citizenship at the national level. This new localism has its roots in the shift in cultural policy thinking in the UK towards putting an emphasis on the local dimension of culture and cultural action for achieving national cohesion. Cultural policy under the Labour government is seen as contributing to the democratization of cultural life, at both national and local levels. There is clearly a break away from ‘the Conservative notion of culture, organized around race, nation, tradition and authority, which dominated educational and cultural politics in England in the 80s and 90s’ (Buckingham and Jones, 2001). Instead, New Labour embraces cultural diversity as one of the pillars of its commitment to inclusiveness. ‘Culture.’ said Chris Smith, the Minister for Media, Culture and Sport in 1997, ‘– or perhaps we should talk rather of cultures – has to be seen on the widest possible canvas. Today Britain embraces cultures from all over the world, as we always have, and the diversity of our society and our experiences is precisely part of what makes for the richness of our cultural environment’ (Smith, 1998: 36). What seems to be new in this rhetoric of ‘diversity’ is the link that is being made between recognizing and accepting diversity and its contribution to social inclusion and social cohesion. Cultural activity, in this vision, is seen to ‘guarantee a new mode of social cohesion, no longer so dependent on tradition and authority. It has a “shaping” function’ (Buckingham and Jones, 2001: 3). What New Labour thinking has introduced, then, is the linking of cultural diversity to social cohesion and social inclusion. The link between cultural diversity and social cohesion is provided by the local. It is thought that the well-being of local communities contributes to the overall well-being of the society, and that the role of arts is central in attaining social cohesion. ‘Providing cultural opportunities for local people to enjoy themselves, to find fulfilment, to develop skills they never realized they had, and to find the excitement of working together with others to make things happen – all this,’ said Chris Smith, helps to generate a sense of purpose and of self-worth amongst those who have been constrained or patronised for years. This is a classic demonstration of the links between cultural activity and a sense of identity – personal identity for individuals, and local identity for communities … And it can lead on to most remarkable rejuvenation of neighbourhoods. (Smith, 1998: 40)

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Now, with the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister’s new five-year plan, Sustainable Communities: People, Places and Prosperity, the emphasis is on empowering localities and local people through the application of an integrated approach to community regeneration and cultural planning. Roger Stratton-Smith from the Department of Culture, Media and Sports (DCMS) commented recently how ‘DCMS needs to work closely with local councils to ensure that culture plays a full part in meeting the priorities of local communities’. Culture, he said, ‘has the capacity to bring people together behind a shared sense of local identity and a shared sense of direction for the local community’ (Stratton-Smith, 2004: 34). What has happened with the Labour government, then, is that there has been recognition of the value of a bottom-up approach, in other words, of a locally-based politics where these issues of social and cultural inclusion and cohesion are addressed at the local level, to supplement the abstract level of the nation. This drive to localize cultural policy discourse and action saw its major outcome in the Local Cultural Strategies: Draft Guidance for Local Authorities in England developed in 1999 by the DCMS, in partnership with the Local Government Association (LGA), requiring all local authorities in England to draw up their local cultural plans. It encouraged local authorities to formalize and publish plans for the strategic development of their cultural and culturerelated services. In 2002, with the publication of the draft Guidance on Integrating Cultural and Community Strategies by the DCMS, another step in the direction of localization was taken by the central government. By integrating cultural policy and community regeneration, this policy firmed up the Labour government’s approach of ‘seeing cultural activity’, as Griffiths et al. remark, ‘and the “creative economy” as mainstream concerns, capable of playing a significant role in achieving the government’s objectives of social and economic regeneration’ (Griffiths, et al., 2003: 157). Rather than treating culture separately, a full circle was drawn, pointing to the links between local cultures, local development and national cohesion. The Labour government, since it came to power in 1997, has been beset by the tensions that I have referred to above, between a liberalpragmatic approach that sees the world as a globalizing place, where transnational flows and transcultural mixtures are becoming the norm, and a neo-integrationism, where national sovereignty is a main concern, the transnational flows of people and cultures are seen as a potential source of disloyalty, with fundamental implications for national cohesion. However, over their two terms in national government, Labour thinking (what has been termed as the ‘New Labour’) has come up with


an ingenious link between integrationism and globalism. This thinking has two main strands: the creative industries agenda and the localism agenda. The creative industries approach is one that serves the politics of neo-liberalism of the global age. In the New Labour thinking, the central tenet is about fostering creativity and opening floodgates for the better functioning of the information societies that we are becoming. The main idea is that we live in a knowledge society and we are therefore dealing with a cultural economy where creativity is one of the main inputs. ‘Successful societies in the 21st century’, says the government’s Green Paper on Culture and Creativity: The Next Ten Years, ‘will be those that nurture a spirit of creativity and foster cultural activity which goes hand in hand with it.’ The way New Labour addresses the question of how to foster creativity is by having no restrictions in terms of flows of cultural products, messages and information. The Localism agenda, on the other hand, by linking cultural activity and creativity to social regeneration, makes the necessary step in incorporating the local into the neo-liberal agenda. The philosophy behind this vision – what may be termed the cultural planning approach – is that cultural resources can be used for the economic development of localities, ‘that a “productive” use of diversity can help to create a sustainable skills base and a culture of innovation capable of yielding economic rewards for everybody’ (Ghilardi, 2002). Hence, all local authorities in England were asked to produce cultural strategies by the end of 2002, the main aim being ‘to promote the cultural well-being of the area, forging links with strategies for improving other core services and partnership arrangements for delivering plans.’ (DCMS, 2001). Local authorities were expected to ‘take on board the aim and objectives of the DCMS, and other relevant Government Departments such as DETR, the developments within the National Lottery, and the Best Value regime. The themes of quality, access, raising standards and cultural sector jobs should be central to these strategies which should also address the national “cross-cutting” agendas of public health, community safety, social exclusion, environmental sustainability, regeneration, the “Active Community” initiative and lifelong learning’ (DCMS, 1999). The conceptual framework informing these local regeneration policy initiatives in Britain is, however, firmly rooted in the traditional understanding of local citizens as stranded and helpless subjects rendered passive between the too distant national policy instruments and even more distant global dynamics both shaping and affecting their daily lives beyond their control. Thus, the thrust of the new policy drive is centred on empowerment and, as Tony Travers says, ‘capacity building’.

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‘The overall message of Citizen engagement and public services’, says Travers (2005), ‘is clear enough: the government believes people are disconnected from the provision of public services, particularly in their neighbourhoods’. ‘We need to give local people the chance to change their neighbourhoods’, says the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister’s Sustainable Communities plan, ‘by wielding real power – and, in doing so, to reconnect local and national politics with people and their daily lives’ (quoted from Travers, 2005).

Changing city perspectives What we need to establish, then, within the context of this new policy drive towards revitalization of the local, is how, in the case of what is widely referred to as ‘world cities’ or ‘global cities’ such as London, this framework of understanding of what constitutes urban or local has largely become obsolete. The new localism of the Labour government in the UK fails to provide a shift of focus that would enable a better understanding of the changes implicated in the increasing globalism and world-openness of these cities. We need a turn of imagination of the urban that takes into account the transnational and transcultural processes that are fragmenting and reconnecting the city on new terms. Among the developing trends that shape urban phenomena today, Sassen identifies ‘globalization and the rise of the new information technologies, the intensifying of transnational and translocal dynamics, and the strengthening presence and voice of socio-cultural diversity’ (Sassen, 2000: 144). She is pointing to the significance of new mobilities and flows (through both information/media networks and human migrations), and of the new kinds of relationship between places and cultures that ensue as a consequence of these mobilities and flows. In other words, urban phenomena in the twenty-first century are very different, so much so that, as Marcus Doel and Phil Hubbard put it, ‘our understanding of the city needs to be radically rescaled, with notions that a world city is a bounded place plugged into a global space of flows rejected in favour of a perspective that sees world-cityness as an achievement of performances and encounters that are globally distributed with varying degrees of clustering and dispersion’ (Doel and Hubbard, 2002: 352). The city, they suggest, is something ‘that is produced rather than … something given’ (ibid.). The crucial point to clarify is that the inhabitants of the city, the social subjects, in producing the city are doing so transnationally, as their social field of experience now extends well-beyond their immediate local and national boundaries,


incorporating interdependencies that are built across spaces. The immigrant, the tourist, the citizen of the world city today, their sociality is one of ‘mobility’ as John Urry (2001) points out. This has clear implications for practices and our conception of citizenship. Global cities, as Engin Isin remarks, are indeed, ‘spaces where the very meaning, content and extent of citizenship are being made and transformed’ (Isin, 2000: 6). The challenge for social scientists is to find ways conceptually to grasp the nature of this new kind of urbanism. This must involve the recognition that many of our already existing conceptualizations of cities are no longer adequate to understand the change that regards them in terms of discreet and bounded entities – in terms of sociocultural containers (a metaphor, invoking rootedness and community, that is very much grounded in the imaginative repertoire of methodological nationalism). Recent social theory has sought to find a language that can move our thinking beyond this kind of bounded container imagination of the city. This has involved the recognition that cities must increasingly be seen in terms of flows, networks and connections. Marcus Doel and Phil Hubbard (2002: 361) argue that, in moving, as we must, beyond the conventional notion of the city as ‘a bounded portion of the earth’, we have to learn ‘to conceive of world cities as networks of heterogeneous materials and practices that attend to the intersection, bifurcation and cultivation of innumerable flows.’ What is significant about world cities, they suggest, is ‘the way they bring relations into being; the way flows drift in and drift out, speed up and slow down, contract and expand within them, folding and unfolding space’ (2002: 357). They are pointing to something new – something more dynamic, something more fluid, and something that is also more contingent and provisional – in the kinds of flows that now thread cities together. Let me here formulate some important aspects of what – as I see it – is happening in the new urban and trans-urban developments: 1 There is a new kind of mobility in play, connecting urban spaces together on a new basis, and this is occurring on a different basis than older forms of networking. I would note Amin and Thrift’s (2002: 29) observation that ‘[t]he metaphor of the network is not necessarily the best one, since it conjures up a vision of a fixed set of nodes from which things circulate through fixed channels rather than a set of often tenuous fluid-like flows.’ We are in the realm of dynamics that are being constantly produced and re-produced, rather than being

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‘given’ as part of a preordained structure or hierarchy. The relational grid in which the city is coming to exist is, then, of a new kind, both more complex and more fluid than before. The city is coming to exist as a constellation of practices that increasingly combine both localised and distanciated elements. With respect to London, for example, Doel and Hubbard (2002: 365) note that its status as a world city derives from ‘a multiplicity of sites, institutions and connections, many of them “outside” London’s boundaries.’ They underline the need, therefore, for policy-makers and academics concerned with urban issues ‘to revise understandings of inside and outside, local and global, near and far’ (2002: 365). In order for the interconnectivity of cities to be possible, a standardized and regulated transnational institutional infrastructure must be brought into existence. In Doel and Hubbard’s terms, trans-urban networking requires, as a condition of its possibility, ‘practices that allow the incommensurable to be rendered commensurable’ (2002: 361). To use a simple metaphor, for cities to be plugged into a common network, the plugs must all be compatible. The city governments and urban policy-makers must actively seek to respond to these new urban dynamics. In the new context, cities find themselves having to mediate and translate the global flows that they are part of, to keep themselves well-positioned in the transnational order. City administrations find themselves involved in a game that is both fluid and precarious, involving a complex mixture of both competition and collaboration with other cities. In conditions that favour mobility, they must maintain their position in transnational networks. It takes a vast amount of effort to keep things ‘in their place’, to hold down assets in any particular city, and also to sustain trans-urban connections. ‘World-cityness’ needs to be performed and worked. And, in the new environment, it ‘needs to be worked and performed at a multiplicity of sites’ (Doel and Hubbard, 2002: 365). As a consequence, there is a now proliferation of ‘actors’ concerned with the work of making the trans-urban system work. It is the case that those cities with better institutional capacity – and a mindset that understands the principle of translocal connections and fluidity – become more successful in organizing and making use of cultural capital and flows. Emergence of internationally oriented networks of cultural producers and workers in the city – crucial in bringing together and sustaining translocal cultural flows.


Changing city spaces: London In our overall project we have set out to describe, in the context of our seven cities, the multiplicity of sites, artistic and cultural networking practices, institutions and connections that these cities are embedded in. We are concerned with the city as a space of cultural interaction, and particularly with what might be new and productive about taking the city as a focus for thinking about cultural diversity. And we are concerned with the emergence of what we have called city nexuses, involving cultural flows and networking between different urban spaces. In both contexts – both within and between our cities – we are concerned with transcultural phenomena, with the negotiations and interactions between different cultural orders in the trans-European urban space. In the light of this overall agenda, then, how to capture and describe what is now going on in London? Which must mean, more exactly, how to capture and describe what is coming in, passing through, and going out of London? In this endeavour, I will concentrate on the porosity of the city, or what we might call its world-openness, that is its degree of openness to flows and its ability to mediate and translate these flows by opening up and sustaining public spaces, facilities and resources. This I see as central to the cultural dynamics of London now. In what ways, I want to ask, might London provide indications of cosmopolitan potential? Here, it is important to look at the implications of world-openness. I will discuss in the following section how openness involves fragmentation and translocal connection simultaneously, disturbing further any possibility that the urban structure might have been taken as a container for social cohesion. The second focus that we need to develop concerns the public scripts and institutional capacities – mindsets or policies – that aim to regulate the performance of world-cityness of London. Here we have in mind the public policy discourses and implementations, such as those of the Greater London Authority, that shape the potential and the nature of public engagement, encounter and interaction in the city. This will be a subject for another study.

World-openness I want to discuss world-openness under two headings: the first is to do with cultural flows and how these flows are situated within an array of locally-based cultural production activities (the fixidities that make flows possible); and the second is to do with the transformative aspects

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of world-openness, how world-openness brings with it the possibility of emergence of new cultural forms, networks, products and grammars.

London as a hub for transnational information and media flows and of production We need to take into account that London is one of the richest metropolitan centres in the world in terms of per capita income, in terms of variety of infrastructures, agglomeration economies and also in terms of the mix of its population. It is a capital city with a long tradition of skills and production base in the cultural industries. It is able to export human skills and import consignments in the different sectors of the cultural industries. As well as being a production and skills base, London offers a huge consumption market for a variety of cultural products. There seems to be endless appetite and openness for new cultural offerings. With its long-established migrant communities and a relaxed atmosphere of liberal openness, there is a constant supply of cultural entrepreneurs and intermediaries from different language communities undertaking cultural production, organization of events and supply of information and media infrastructures. Almost all of London’s migrant populations (from Africa, the Caribbean, China, Bangladesh, Middle East, Turkey, India, Pakistan, Ireland, and elsewhere)1 have access to television channels from countries of origin or to channels in their languages. There are minimal restrictions in terms of putting up satellite dishes on private premises. Some channels are available on a pay-per-view basis, on the SKY World satellite package and/or on local cable stations.2 Many channels have no offices or contacts in the UK – people receive them simply by putting up satellite dishes (a lot of the Turkish stations coming from Turkey are like this for instance). Other channels do, however, have UK contacts or offices, and some are licensed by British authorities as satellite programme providers, satellite channels or as cable television content providers. There are at least 50 licensed transnational television stations, almost all based in London, broadcasting to various diasporic, language and regional communities around the world. Medya TV, for instance, was one such television venture based in London, licensed to operate a trans-border satellite television station. Medya TV targeted the various Kurdish communities spread across Europe, and also those living in Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Syria and other Middle-Eastern countries, and Russia. For some transnational television stations, being located in London and using the scale and opportunities provided by London has


been crucial. Phoenix Chinese News and Entertainment for instance is one of those stations based in London, operating a satellite channel from London, and targeting the Chinese population in the UK and in Europe. Similarly, until very recently, Middle East Broadcasting Centre (MBC) used to be based in London, running a transnational Arabic-language station. Zee TV and Sony Entertainment TV, again, are transnational operations with bases in London, targeting the multi-lingual SouthAsian migrants in Europe (Zee TV, for instance, broadcasts in English, Hindi and Urdu). In the domain of print, radio and Internet-based media, the picture is even more prolific. London is the base for locally produced newspapers in Bengali, Gujarati, Hindi, Panjabi, Urdu, Greek, Turkish, Kurdish, Arabic, Russian and so forth. There are five weekly newspapers, all free, in the Turkish language (some bilingual) in London (Londra Toplum Postasi, Toplum, Olay, Avrupa and Avrasya). There are also a number of nation-wide daily and weekly newspapers, targeting Black and Asian readers (such as The Nation). A recent development is the transnationalisation of some of the ventures. Asian Bride is a good example here, a monthly magazine targeting Asian women (or women who are interested in Asian dress styles) all over the world (English-speaking, though). Q-News is another example, where the focus is on news from the Muslim world, news concerning Muslim affairs and, more broadly, news and current affairs with implications for the Islamic world. London Turkish Radio and London Greek Radio are two of the longest standing ethnic community radio stations in London. For the Asian community, there is Asian Gold, BBC Asian Network, Club Asia, IBC Tamil Radio, Panjab Radio, Sunrise Radio, all catering for these communities living within the London area.3 There is Spectrum International Radio, devoted to multiethnic programming 24 hours a day. Almost all these stations are commercial ventures (except, of course the BBC), depending on advertising revenues. But this doesn’t mean that the radio environment is closed off to non-commercial interest groups. On the contrary, in London, as in some other parts of Britain, there is a vibrant community-access radio scene. In east London, there is now a Kurdish-language radio programme, called Rojbas, broadcasting everyday between 1:30 pm to 3:00. Of course, the analogue and digital radio stations accessed via satellites are beyond our ability to count. This is even more the case with Internet-based media. What this dynamic picture points to is, not only that London is sitting in the midst of a maelstrom of sound and information flows coming from all over the world, and being picked up by the residents

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of London as part of their daily routine, but perhaps equally importantly that London is the location for many of these transnational media ventures. London is truly a hub, attracting media activities because of its liberal regulatory environment, and because of its multicultural knowledge base stemming from its historic colonial links with many of the countries that the migrant audiences come from. As there are no restrictive measures or policies regarding housing and business ventures among migrant communities, their agglomeration in certain parts of the city has actually constituted a minimum basis for the development of various media projects. More people sharing similar concerns living in close proximity helps in the pooling of capital and intellectual resources. However, what we find is that these media ventures and projects carry externality effects for London as a whole. If we look at the example of Middle East Broadcasting Centre (MBC), which has re-located its headquarters to Qatar from London, this has been experienced as a loss for London’s knowledge-economy and for London’s status as a capital of information and culture. When we look at how some of these many different media ventures have been developing, what we can identify is the emergence of two trends. First, we find that what may have started as a small community-based media project evolves in time to go beyond the locality and become a wider project. This development, of course, depends on how spread the community in question is. In the case of Asian and Afro-Caribbean communities, their print and radio ventures have managed to combine both local focus and a UK-wide one. In the case of the Turkish and Kurdish communities, because of their agglomeration in London, and even in particular parts of the city, going beyond the locality has been restricted to the vision projected in the editorial process. Hence, within the Turkish-speaking community for instance, there are two new weeklies, significantly calling themselves Avrupa (Europe) and Avrasya (Eurasia). Both Avrupa and Avrasya have set their editorial vision well-beyond the daily confines and interests of the local Turkish-speaking community, extending and linking them to a much larger geography, beyond Britain, encompassing Europe and Eurasia. A second trend in the development of the media involves the professionalization and diversification of media projects. Londra Toplum Postasi now declares at the top of its front page that the newspaper is ’20 yasinda’ (20 years old). This suggests an evolving basis for professionalism and a commercial knowledge base. One of the implications of this professionalization is that new projects and diversification into other areas


become possible. Hence, we now have a monthly bi-lingual (Turkish and English) health and beauty magazine called PashaLife, targeting a very different market, and going beyond the so-called ethnic community focus. Professionalization also has a positive impact for the development of other types of projects, such as the organization of cultural events.

London as a transformative ground for world cultural events London is unique in the world in terms of the variety and density of cultural events that take place. Cultural productions from all over the world, from all kinds of different genres, find eager audiences and followers in London. There is now an established scene of cultural events and of artists and promoters based in London, making the city a place where interesting new encounters and mixtures are brought about. There are very vibrant cultural scenes originating from London, such as the world music scene, with many venues across London and many festivals in this genre taking place every year. There are festivals that are organized by professional promotion companies targeting wide audiences, and also festivals that are organized by promoters or by various kinds of associations from within the migrant communities. What is interesting is the emerging trend for events organized by migrant community associations to become professional and commercial ventures, thus targeting wider audiences in order to recoup investments. Increasing commercialization means greater sensitivity to diversity of tastes, and also ingeniousness in being able to package something that caters for this ever increasing diversity of interests. The Festival of Asia, which took place in August 2003, is a good example of this trend. First, the organizers brought in ‘acts’ from all over Asia; including Chinese Kung Fu masters, Bollywood actresses, Hindi singers and Bengali superstars. Second, it was organized in such a way as to attract different cultural and taste groups on a non-ethnic basis – thus, young people are targeted with Kung Fu and top Bollywood stars, and older generations with classical music. A further point here concerns how these events are now organized as public events aiming to introduce the artists in question into more mainstream markets. As the organizers put it, the Festival of Asia aimed to provide ‘a unique marketing opportunity’ for those taking part in the event. What this means is that the event was planned as a platform, not just for ‘ethnic’ consumption purposes, but also as an avenue to exploit marketing opportunities to wider audiences through recording and performance deals. The Festival’s location, too, is telling: it was the Millennium Dome (a well-known, symbolic, but fated

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site, located on the River Thames, which had been built to celebrate the turn of the century. Now, after many hesitations as to its future use, the site has been slowly picking up an identity as a platform for holding massive, across the board events, pulling in huge crowds. The Mayor of London’s annual multicultural event, the Respect Festival was held at this site in 2003, with great success. London as a mixing ground of cultures suggests a transformative dimension to cultural flows and exchanges. London is not just a hub of cultural exchange and of cultural flows, but also its world-openness results in the generation of transformative dynamics. I could highlight what these dynamics are under two headings:

• The first is to do with the emergence of entirely new cultural forms and products. We could take the example of World Music here. In a recent journalistic essay on world music, a group of music enthusiasts – including a DJ, a music magazine editor and two record producers – all based in London, were saying ‘we created world music’. The caption of the essay went: ‘Seventeen years ago today, a group of people gathered in a room above a pub and invented a musical genre’ (The Guardian, 29 June 2004). It turns out that during this pub meeting they were discussing how they might market music from around the world, and they decided ‘on a joint campaign to put “world music” boxes in record stores to promote their products’ (ibid.). • The second point is to do with the implications when cultural products from other countries, places, from outside the immediate cultural field of London, use London as a showcase for marketing, as a market for consumption. What happens is that as London becomes an attractive centre of cultural consumption and promotion, more and more international cultural products come to London. And, of course, these cultural products then have to go through the same intermediary stages of selection, scrutiny, quality assessment, criticism and evaluation as all other ‘indigenous’ products go through. This is the reason for the existence of a vast professional pool of cultural critics, writers and intermediaries. The result of this process of critical evaluation is the making of cultural products commensurate with one another. Products are judged on the basis of their quality, appeal, coherence, aesthetics, and so forth, which then send a clear message to the cultural producer in terms of how to modify, change and adapt products in the future.


World-openness and urban cosmopolitanism With world-openness, what we are seeing is the emergence of a range of translocal and trans-urban cultural fields. The city is pulled in different directions, with its different parts going along disparate networks, connecting globally. Hence, it is very difficult to envisage a compact, contained and bounded entity when we are looking at a city like London, well flourished in its practices and discourses of worldopenness. It is possible to delineate two separate logics behind the emergence of translocal cultural fields. One dynamic which drives the formation of translocal and transurban connections is the networking of identity-based communities across spaces. Ethnic, national, linguistic, religious or other types of identity-based communities, like political, gay and lesbian, feminist, and disability groups, all network beyond their localities, connecting into people with similar identities and concerns across spaces. This process is one of the dynamics behind the emergence of translocal cultural fields. The second dynamic involves creation of shared spaces, again across locally-bounded places and territories, on the basis of cultural exchange within a defined and agreed upon parameters of cultural taste. Here, I have in mind the world music scene for instance. The consumption of world music (not only in terms of recorded music but in terms of concerts, clubs, festivals and gigs) creates translocal cultural spaces that cut across identity-based cultural fields, joining up different parts of the city on a temporal basis. London has indeed become one of the key locations for the production, dissemination and consumption of world music. In other words, I am drawing attention to two simultaneous processes, one of which is inherently a fragmentary process, constantly breaking up the imaginary unity of the city, pulling and connecting bits of the city to other bits elsewhere, the other creating shared cultural fields across these fragmented spaces, again though, extending our imaginary world beyond the confines of our immediate locality and beyond notions of ethnicity. One important point is the simultaneity and coexistence of these two logics. We may call one the identity logic and the other translation logic. What is common to both these logics is that they subject the city to constant pressure of fragmentation and to translocal connection. It seems to be the case that the fragmentary logic does not pose a problem for the city and for city’s policy-makers. This is contrary to how transnational connections are seen at the national discourse level. At the city level, it is easier to grasp the potential for economic gains from transnationalism as migrant mobility opens up new markets, new

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audiences and new consumption practices. Migrants are grounded in the localities in which they live, drawing on the resources of their new places of residence. They occupy a cultural and social space that is both locally specific but also transnational. They bring in cultural products for their own consumption and sometimes they generate cultural products that need to be packaged elsewhere before they are put into commodity circulation in London. This is not a story of disconnection, but of the extension and enrichment of connections and commercial and cultural possibilities. The other reason why fragmentary, identity-based logics do not pose a problem for the city entity is the existing mechanisms at the nation-state level for taking care of the problematical aspects of the world-openness (we may call them problems of political nature, such as concerns about security of borders, national cohesion, national integration and identity). City governance, on the other hand, can specialize in looking after the commercial gains from world-openness (the economic logic). However, with increasing decentralization of decision-making, with the new local impetus, there is a question mark as to how long the city governments can sustain this splitting of the economic and the political. With decentralization, major urban administrations, such as London’s GLA, are becoming nation-state-like in the way they are having to address the enhancement of the lives of their citizens and their integration into the city’s social and economic life. This process of decentralization is also a result of the existence of such funding mechanisms as the EU Structural Funds that sideline national funding mechanisms. The GLA makes a case for the continuing support of the European Structural Funds for London, lobbying directly the EU policy-makers and arguing that the EU objectives are closely tied into the better management of socio-economic problems in London. In this process of re-focusing of governance at the city level, politically-charged issues such as the integration of minorities and migrant communities, issues which had been formulated within the realm of the nation-state, become part of the managerial remit of the city administrations. However, there is a possibility, evinced from the London case, that through this process of decentralization a number of new formulations are taking place, formulations that have direct relevance for the way in which the issue of social integration is addressed. One development is to treat the integration issue at the level of barriers to economic participation. In London’s Perspective (2003), a GLA report, the issue of social inclusion and exclusion of migrant populations is treated in terms of multiple barriers to accessing the labour market, to education,


to basic infrastructural amenities. Here, we see a change in the language of inclusion and exclusion, a focus on the economic barriers rather than what has been customarily couched in terms of a political and cultural jargon. We might characterize this turn as one of functionalism or utilitarianism. Requirements to do with national identity, belonging to the host nation, integrating into the nation, seems to have given way to a much more functional and realistic assessment of the ‘needs’ of immigrant populations. Thus, London’s Perspective, in the section on skills to drive competitiveness, for instance, demonstrates this functionalist approach: Immigrant populations represent a considerable human capital resource to address these [London’s] skills gaps. They also enrich the cultural diversity of cities and often have strong and successful traditions of entrepreneurship. However, many immigrants, including asylum seekers and refugees, face major linguistic and cultural barriers in accessing employment and in many cases experience difficulties in achieving recognition of their qualifications. As a result many immigrants are unable to take up work and are particularly vulnerable to social exclusion and poverty. This is an issue faced by cities across the Union, and continuing Structural Fund support is critical to provide specialist services and support to achieve the social inclusion of this population. (London’s Perspective, 2003) This turn away from ethno-culturalist and nationally-coded political terms is a necessary one for a cosmopolitan imagination as it inscribes the issue of social inclusion on a new terrain of economics. Rainer Bauböck says that ‘[i]t is tempting to regard the global city as a new political space within which the meaning of citizenship can be fundamentally redefined’ (Bauböck, 2003: 156). The terms of politics, as Neal Ascherson has recently argued, will have to be reinvented in the new city space. As I have tried to show through a mixture of change of policy thinking towards local empowerment, and the world-openness of global cities, like in London, there is now an entirely new urban reality emerging, the city has become a space that is always in flux and in the making through transnational networks of flows, and as a space of transcultural diversity. This is a new kind of urban society, as Neal Ascherson (2004) says: It is neither a bouquet of contrasting cultures nor the adoption of the patterns of the old indigenous majority, but a fresh synthesis.

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It is produced by the spread of the human-rights culture, by the dissolution of protected career structures in favour of a bewildering succession of short-term job opportunities, by intermarriage, and by all the other economic and social pressures which give priority to individual life-choices over group conformity. World cities are becoming the experiential zones from which the project of cosmopolitanism finds a bottom-up basis for its fruition. ‘An urban citizenship’, says Bauböck, ‘that is emancipated from the imperatives of national sovereignty and homogeneity may become a homebase for cosmopolitan democracy’ (Bauböck, 2003: 157). An urban citizenship where the notion of glocal finds its everyday equivalent in meaning – that is, where it is customary to be both locally embedded and at the same time to be active participant and/or shaper of transnational socioscapes – may be the very basis for cosmopolitanism from below. Notes 1 London is regarded as the most ethnically diverse city in the world. Almost 2 million of London’s population is from migrant backgrounds (half of the migrant communities in the UK), which makes more than one in three Londoners from migrant backgrounds. There are at least 300 languages spoken in the capital and 37 migrant communities of over 10,000 people. In the last five years, around a quarter of a million refugees came to Britain and the majority of them live in London. 2 For 38 pounds a month, alongside numerous English-language news, entertainment, children’s and sports channels, consumers can get B4U Music, PCNE, Muslim Television Ahmaddiya, Abu Dhabi TV, and Asia TV. 3 Sunrise Radio is a nation-wide radio station targeting the Asian communities across the UK.

References Amin, A. and Thrift, N. (2002) Cities: Reimagining the Urban. Cambridge: Polity Press. Ascherson, N. (2004) ‘From Multiculturalism to Where?’, www.opendemocracy. net (accessed on 19 August 2004). Bauböck, R. (2003) ‘Reinventing Urban Citizenship’, Citizenship Studies, vol. 7, no. 2: 139–60. Buckingham, D. and Jones, K. (2001) ‘New Labour’s Cultural Turn: Some Tension in Contemporary Educational and Cultural Policy’, Journal of Education Policy, vol. 16, no. 1: 1–14. Citizens’ Engagement (2005) London: Office of the Deputy Prime Minister. Culture and Creativity: The Next Ten Years (2001) London: Department of Culture, Media and Sport. Doel, M. and Hubbard, P. (2002) ‘Taking World Cities Literally: Marketing the City in a Global Space of Flows’, City, vol. 6, no. 3: 351–69.

104 London and the Project of Urban Cosmopolitanism Ghilardi, L. (2002) ‘Cultural Planning and Cultural Diversity’, in T. Bennett (ed.), Differing Diversities. Strasbourg: Council of Europe Publications. Griffiths, R., Bassett, K. and Smith, I. (2003) ‘Capitalising on Culture: Cities and the Changing Landscape of Cultural Policy’, Policy and Politics, vol. 31, no. 2: 153–69. Holston, J. and Appadurai, A. (1996) ‘Cities and Citizenship’, Public Culture, vol. 8: 187–204. Isin, E.F. (ed.) (2000) Democracy, Citizenship and the Global City. London: Routledge. Local Cultural Strategies: Draft Guidance for Local Authorities in England (1999) Department of Culture, Media and Sport, UK. London: Cultural Capital, The Mayor’s Draft Cultural Strategy (2003) Greater London Authority, London. London’s Perspective (2003) Greater London Authority, London. Sassen, S. (2000) ‘New Frontiers Facing Urban Sociology at the Millennium’, British Journal of Sociology, vol. 51, no. 1: 143–59. Smith, C. (1998) Creative Britain. London: Faber & Faber. Stratton-Smith, R. (2004) ‘Local Cultural Planning: The View from the Department of Culture, Media and Sport’, Cultural Trends, vol. 13, no. 51: 3–36. Sustainable Communities (2005) London: Office of the Deputy Prime Minister. Travers, T. ‘Model Citizens’ www.publicfinance.co.uk (accessed on 11 February 2005). Urry, J. (2001) Sociology Beyond Societies: Mobilities for the Twenty-First Century. London: Routledge.

6 The ‘Whiteness’ of Cultural Policy in Paris and Berlin Nadia Kiwan and Kira Kosnick

Introduction When we look closely at how cultural and arts policy operates in the urban settings of Paris and Berlin, we find different policy spheres characterized by a division between ‘high’ culture on the one hand, and urban-ethno-socio-culture on the other. Whilst the majority of funding is allocated by high-culture institutions, whose productions are evaluated on so-called ‘universal’ aesthetic grounds, only a relatively small amount of funding is diverted to the cultural projects in inner-city, ‘immigrant’ areas. However, the key issue in this chapter is not how the budgets get divided up, but rather why certain categories of the population, namely ‘non-European’ immigrants and postmigrants, are widely expected to engage in cultural projects linked either to ‘ethnic identity’ or to social cohesion and integration. As we shall show below, ‘non-white’ or non-European immigrant and postmigrant artists can find it difficult to obtain recognition of the ‘intrinsic’ artistic value of their work. In this chapter, we will argue that this state of affairs is not simply linked to national understandings of what constitutes culture in France and Germany, but is the manifestation of cultural hierarchies and the unmarked ‘whiteness’ of artistic standards. We are not using ‘whiteness’ as a racial category, but rather as a concept which allows us to understand how the ‘Other’ is constructed from a position of dominance. In the first part of the chapter we will show how, historically, divisions and hierarchies have been established in the field of culture, by paying particular attention to the socio-culture debates in both France and Germany. In the second section we will focus our attention more specifically on shifts in government and institutional perspectives with regard to immigrant cultural production and ‘cultures’. Moving from 105

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policy discourse to concrete institutional arrangements, we will present four case studies (two in Paris, two in Berlin) of cultural institutions which exemplify how immigrant and postmigrant cultural production is often regarded as being of more socio-cultural or multicultural worth than artistic worth. Drawing on empirical research carried out over the course of a year in both Paris and Berlin, we argue that it is possible to speak of the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy. In the final section, we give further examples of the policy structures and modes of evaluation which effectively maintain a gap between a stable high/universal culture on the one hand and immigrant and urban cultures on the other.

Putting socio-culture into context in France and Germany France In France, the notion of socio-culture emerged in the 1960s. However, Poujol and Simonot argue that earlier forms of socio-culture appeared in the nineteenth century through the popular education movement, which was aimed at the emerging working class. Following the First World War, popular education became more directly concerned with art and culture, and after the Second World War the notion of animation emerged. Socio-cultural animation developed from the 1960s onwards and replaced the old éducation populaire term (Poujol and Simonot, 2001). When the Ministry for Cultural Affairs was created in 1959 with André Malraux as its Minister, it was set up in clear opposition to popular education, leisure and socio-cultural animation (Dubois and Laborier, 2003). The term socio-culture or socio-cultural animation developed against a background of significant political change – following the protests over the Vietnam and Algerian wars and the May 1968 movement in particular. During the 1960s and 1970s, socio-culture was associated with communism and wider socio-political struggles against the elite and the ‘establishment’. The socio-culture activists or animateurs argued that it was time to put an end to inequalities, and art and ‘legitimate culture’ was widely regarded as a tool of domination used by the upper classes (Poujol and Simonot, 2001: 96). As a result, the site for much of this cultural contestation and socio-cultural animation was the less ‘well-off’ urban peripheries of major towns and cities. Rather than simply widening access to the existing canon of artistic work, the socio-culture militants argued that each individual had an innate capacity for artistic creation. In this sense, the socio-culture activists situated themselves very clearly

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in opposition to the Ministry of Culture’s discourse and policy approach of the time – the focus of which was action culturelle and later démocratisation culturelle – where what actually constituted culture was not called into question (Poujol and Simonot, 2001: 95). Post-1968, the opposition between socio-culture and action culturelle became more acute and the position of the socio-cultural sector increasingly fragile (Poujol and Simonot, 2001). Dubois and Laborier also show how, from the 1970s onwards, the socio-culture sector which had been initiated by volunteers and activists was gradually ‘taken over’ by culture professionals who had been appointed following the elections of many left-wing parties and coalitions to local government. The subsequent institutionalization and professionalization of socio-culture led once more to a growing focus on the aesthetic alone. However, since the 1990s, the principles of socio-culture have made a comeback, albeit in a slightly different form and under a different name – la médiation culturelle (cultural mediation). The reemergence of the social in the field of culture has taken place mainly in working-class urban peripheries. Art is often used to ‘restructure’ the urban space, and the volet culturel of the politique de la ville (cultural dimension of urban regeneration policy) is used to further wider social and urban objectives of social cohesion and integration through activities such as rap or writing workshops with young people. In sum, the division between socio-culture on the one hand and highculture-informed action culturelle has been a key feature of cultural policy debates and practices over the last 40 years. However, what is even more significant and what often goes unnoticed – or at least unacknowledged by many commentators and observers – is the fact that both socio-culture and action culturelle are informed by certain norms which highlight and stigmatize specific populations. At one time, the stigmatized target of socio-culture was the working class. Today, the target of la médiation culturelle and la démocratisation culturelle largely concerns populations of ‘immigrant-origin and postmigrant origin’. Both of these strategies are premised on the idea that there is some form of social and cultural deficit in certain urban areas of France where large proportions of the inhabitants are of immigrant or postmigrant background (a social deficit due to a perceived lack of social cohesion in ‘les quartiers sensibles/difficiles’ and a cultural deficit due to the absence of opportunity to gain access to ‘(high) culture’ – often understood in this context as theatre, museums and so on). The resulting association of these urban areas and an imagined social and cultural deficit can, as we shall show, have a negative impact on immigrant and postmigrant production.


Germany In the Federal Republic, the notion of Soziokultur formed part of a general revolt in the 1970s against cultural traditions deemed bourgeois, with new social movements and left-wing political activists redefining Kultur as a good to be enjoyed and practised by all parts of the population (Heinrichs, 1997). Challenging what was seen as an elitist and conservative cultural establishment restricted to the middle and upper classes, cultural activism was to promote access to both cultural consumption and production for marginalized and socio-economically weak population groups. Particularly at communal and local levels, different forms of culture were, as a result, eventually ‘discovered’ for cultural policymaking, such as folk music, photography and cultural activities formerly labelled as ‘hobbies’. The focus thereby shifted from performative, public-oriented forms of cultural production towards the recognition of cultural production as a form of self-realization and social participation, not geared towards a public audience but towards the transformation of its active participants. The concept of Soziokultur emphasized the importance of creative activities for personal growth and social cohesion, and sought radically to democratize cultural landscapes, particularly at the grassroots level of the communes (Deutscher Städtetag, 1992). The radical impetus of democratization, however, has been increasingly transformed into a tool of integrating rather than empowering potentially problematic groups of the population. The once subversive activism of social movements and political groupings has been ‘tamed’ in a process of institutionalization that has turned socio-culture into a fixture of policy-making ‘against social exclusion’ even for conservative political forces (Dubois and Laborier, 2003). As in France, socio-culture is especially mobilized to intervene in contexts that are deemed socially and politically explosive, tackling issues such as youth unemployment or racism. However, the new institutions and initiatives that were to implement these goals did not replace the established landscape of theatres, opera houses and concert halls in Germany that were associated with the concept of Kultur as ‘high art’ and ‘national traditions’. In times of relative affluence lasting into the 1980s, federal states and local governments could afford to simply add to what was already there, so that the challenge which socio-culture had initially posed to the high-cultural establishment factually dissipated. Rather than provoking a rethinking of the standards by which contributions to cultural-aesthetic excellence were measured, socio-culture was eventually channelled into separate


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funding structures and institutional arrangements. The result of these parallel developments has been a dual structure of Soziokultur and Hochkultur in Germany, in which different meanings of culture and different aims associated with those meanings have been institutionalised in different arenas. In terms of administration, Soziokultur tends to be the concern of lowlevel public bodies and institutions, with city districts and communal governments allocating funds that serve different purposes of cultural education and social integration. Hochkultur, on the other hand, falls within the domain of higher-level policy-making. Germany’s capital city is exemplary for this policy divide. It is Berlin’s federal state senate which provides the budget for established theatres, museums and orchestras in the city.1 In matters deemed to be of particular representational relevance for the nation as a whole, the federal government has been stepping in. Cultural institutions in the capital city whose image is deemed to reflect upon the entire country receive funding from the federal government, as stipulated in the Hauptstadtkulturvertrag, the Capital City Culture Contract signed between the city and the Bund (WWW.Bundesregierung.de 2005). Other ‘high cultural’ matters are dealt with at the city level, which given the city’s status as a federal state is also the Länder level. Berlin’s Senate Administration for Science, Research and Culture (Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur), finances and regulates primarily the arts-oriented domain of Hochkultur. However, socio-cultural matters are mostly the concern of other Senate Administrations, which can also engage in policy-making in cultural domains. The Senate Administration for Education, Youth and Sports as well as the Administration for City Development will, for example, provide funding for cultural activities and initiatives that are deemed to further their respective policy goals. The divide between Soziokultur and Hochkultur, the forms of its institutionalization and its influence on cultural policymaking, have significant consequences for immigrant and postmigrant cultural production.

Shifts in perspective with regard to immigrants’ ‘cultures’ Germany Historically, the rise of socio-cultural politics in the 1970s Federal Republic coincided with the peak of labour migration to West Germany, and its public perception as a socio-cultural rather than just economic


phenomenon. Political activists and civil society organizations (such as unions, the churches and so on), employers, politicians and the media debated the distinctive cultural needs of labour migrants, and how these needs could be met. While social movements and the New Left were interested in fighting exclusion and politicizing the migrant population, employers and the political establishment were interested in increasing productivity and minimizing social conflict. From this perspective, cultural difference needed to be managed in the interest of social harmony. Up until the mid-1980s, it was preserving the connection with cultural traditions ‘back home’ which formed the undisputed centre of cultural policy concerns towards labour migrant populations (Kosnick, 2000). Rather than aiming for their ‘integration’, migrants were encouraged to preserve ethno-national identities and ‘home-country’ ties through folk-dancing, music lessons and the like. Most immigrant cultural activities took place in the very contexts and locations that also enabled ‘Soziokultur’: in youth centres, adult education centres (Volkshochschulen), neighbourhood associations, and local cultural facilities linked to the smallest entities of cultural policy-making in Germany, the Kommunen or city districts. In terms of their socio-economic position, labour migrants similarly joined the ranks of those who were the primary target of socio-cultural interventions: the working classes. With the slow political recognition in the 1980s that Germany had in fact become an immigration country, public discourse and policy in the 1990s slowly shifted towards a politics of integration, with the image of a multicultural society gaining ground. In Berlin, the Senate’s Commissioner for Foreigner Affairs (Ausländerbeauftragte) has been renamed Commissioner for Integration and Migration (Beauftragter für Integration und Migration). Immigrant groups are now understood as culturally distinct groups whose ‘difference’ is to be accommodated and defused of disruptive potential. In this context, discourse and policy concerned with immigrant and postmigrant cultural production still remains primarily tied to socio-political goals. The preservation of distinctive cultural traditions has thus remained high on the policy agenda, now linked to ethnic identity politics in a multicultural framework (Kolland, 2003). In a society seen to be composed of multiple ethnic groups that are carriers of distinct cultural traditions and qualities, cultural production can demand public support, both to ‘preserve identity’ and to publicly represent its traditions as a contribution to multicultural life and diversity in Germany. It is important to note,


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though, that the culture to be supported in this context is a marker of ethnic group identity, and not Kultur in the sense of the creative arts. When artists with immigrant background seek recognition in this second domain of cultural production, both meanings of culture are potentially mobilized. As a consequence, their work faces a collusion of semantic contents of culture concepts and, linked to them, different policy contexts and modes of public intervention which have profound consequences for immigrant and postmigrant cultural participation and expression in Berlin. Despite the recognition of immigrant cultural influences as an asset for the city and its cosmopolitan ambitions, this has not automatically opened the doors for immigrant and postmigrant cultural production into the territory of ‘high culture’, as occupied by state theatres, opera houses, concert halls and museums. Instead, this production remains closely associated with socio-culture, a link that becomes particularly visible in the institutional structures and practices that deal with non-Western cultural-artistic forms in the city, as will be shown below.

France As in Germany, the rise of socio-culture coincided with mass labour migration to France following the Second World War. Immigrants in France, many of whom were from North Africa, had hitherto been widely considered as temporary workers who would eventually return to their countries ‘of origin’. However, the closure of the international borders in 1974 and the coinciding policy of family reunification meant that immigration to France would no longer be just a temporary phenomenon. The economic downturn and rising unemployment meant that government policy towards immigrants became increasingly austere. However, after the victory of socialist François Mitterrand in the 1981 presidential elections, and the Parti Socialiste (PS) and Parti Communiste Français in the legislative elections held immediately afterwards, government policy towards immigrants underwent a thaw. In October 1981, the new government made it legal for foreign nationals to form cultural, social and political associations, eligible for public funding (Weil, 2002; Cole, 1998). Whereas the issue of culture had not really been dealt with in the 1970s, the 1980s marked the emergence of the so-called ‘secondgeneration’ of immigrants born in France, and culture became a key issue. Visible amongst this ‘second-generation’ were the ‘beurs’ – the


French-born descendants of North African immigrants to France. The ‘beur’ generation became very active on the political and cultural scene and initially received support from the PS government to organize a number of high-profile cultural events. The initial phase of this apparently increasing ‘openness’ to ‘beur culture’ and new forms of cultural expression such as rap and tag (Poirrier, 2002) in the 1980s, limited though it was, became increasingly overshadowed by the rise of the Front National from 1983 onwards. Eventually, Mitterrand’s government came under increasing pressure to shift rightwards in perspective. Hence le droit à la différence slogan was dropped. In its place, integration became the new watchword and the Haut Conseil à l’intégration was set up in 1990 to deliberate on the integration capacity of the descendants of immigrants. In parallel, discussions in cultural policy circles came to focus from the mid-1990s onwards on the notion that culture could somehow cure the fracture sociale (social fracture). Today when discussions of cultural policy and immigrants actually intersect, the issues which are highlighted are generally two-fold. One draws on the fracture sociale debate launched in the mid-1990s where culture is seen as something which can diffuse apparently socially explosive situations in the banlieues. As such, the ‘quartiers difficiles’ are often encouraged to work on socially-calming issues of migrant memory and ‘identity’. The other dimension concerns the question of la démocratie culturelle or widening access to la culture. Both of these discursive frameworks are deeply ethnicized although most of the time in rather an implicit manner. To talk about l’exclusion, le lien social, les quartiers or les banlieues evokes populations of immigrant or postmigrant background. When explicit mention is made of these populations, it tends to be framed in an agenda of encouraging the ‘expression of cultures of populations of immigrant origin’. An important ‘socio-cultural’ programme (2000–06) launched by the Ministry of Culture and the Ministre délégué à la Ville, called ‘Culture pour la ville – cultures de la ville’ illustrates the implicit notion that there is a stable and noble high culture which will descend ‘top-down’ on the disadvantaged urban areas and at the same time immigrant or urban cultures will be encouraged to emerge ‘bottom-up’.2

Institutional arrangements The division between ‘high culture’ and socio-culture, les cultures des banlieues, les cultures urbaines or les cultures immigrées is reflected by the institutional and funding arrangements that are in place in both cities.


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Paris In order to illustrate this divide in Paris, it is particularly useful to consider two case studies. First the Maison des cultures du monde and secondly the Direction de l’action culturelle et de l’information of the FASILD (Fonds d’action et de soutien pour l’intégration et la lutte contre les discriminations) – a public institution which funds immigrant and postmigrant cultural production at the Parisian (Ile-de-France) and national levels. La Maison des Cultures du Monde (House of World Cultures) ‘Nurtured by our differences.’ Through its programming, the Maison des Cultures du Monde – everintent on unveiling the extraordinary abundance of festivities, rituals, games and forms of entertainment through which man depicts himself – underscores its basic conviction that knowledge of others depends on the discovery of their intrinsic culture and that this culture is constantly renewing itself. (Extract from the English version of the Maison des Cultures du Monde Mission Statement, 2004) The above extract taken from the Maison des Cultures du Monde’s mission statement reveal a clear commitment to different cultural forms and cultural enrichment through ‘difference’ and ‘otherness’. And yet, the mission of the Maison des cultures du monde, which is premised on the importance of ‘exposure’ to cultural difference as a form of personal enrichment, does not involve the immigrant and postmigrant populations living in and around Paris. The artists who are invited to perform all reside abroad or in their ‘countries of origin’. Hence, the assumption is that difference comes from outside – rather than from within the city of Paris. At the Maison des cultures du monde, the cultural production associated with immigrants or postmigrants living in Paris is mainly understood in terms of socio-culture. A representative of the Maison des cultures du monde explains why he and his team do not actively engage with the immigrant and postmigrant populations in the city: From the outset, we did not want to mix the cultural and the sociocultural … My job is Culture, it’s not the socio-cultural … so we have not made any effort to reach the immigrant populations, on the one hand because we didn’t want to limit our openness to world cultures to those of the immigrant peoples here … and on the other hand, because it’s not our role. We set ourselves the objective of


revealing the culture of others to the French. (Kiwan’s interview with a representative of La Maison des cultures du Monde, 28 October 2003, translation from French)3 The distinction between a ‘universal’ high culture on the one hand and immigrants’ cultures on the other, also defines the work of the Maison des cultures du monde. Although the interviewee argues that the recognition that there are many cultures as opposed to just Culture with a capital ‘C’, was a significantly progressive development, one wonders whether this focus on foreign cultures and their representation means that cultural production, when it is produced by the ‘Other’, is more often than not regarded as an expression or representation of identity. Such expectations of art as an expression of identity do not generally apply to ‘Western’ art forms where the aesthetic is the only criteria of assessment. This distinction and expectation is made clear in the next remark made by the Maison’s representative: when we launched the term cultures, in the plural, of the world, a house of world cultureS [emphasised by speaker], twenty-one years ago, it was, nobody really understood … the plural of cultures … There was only Culture with a capital C. We wanted cultures with a small c … these performances that we present are particular, reflect the identity of their creators or the peoples concerned. (Kiwan’s interview with a representative of the Maison des cultures du monde, 28 October 2003, translation from the French) This interest in ‘identity-art’ is not to say that the Maison des cultures du monde is not interested in quality. Indeed, the Maison’s main selection criterion remains artistic excellence. Yet, it would seem, judging by its programme for the Festival de l’Imaginaire, which it holds annually from February to April, and the comments of the interviewee, that artistic excellence is not something which can be easily located amongst Paris’s own immigrant and postmigrant artists. So when artists from Iran, Thailand or Syria are invited, local Paris-based artists are bypassed. This bypassing of immigrant and postmigrant populations is not restricted to the selection of artists. It also affects the constitution of audiences. The interviewee points out that the Maison does not target immigrant audiences in Paris because, he argues, they would not be interested: I’m not interested, if I programme an Indian show, in getting the Indian population to come. That’s not my role. My role is to get those


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who don’t know this culture to come. That’s one issue. The other is that it has transpired that what we programme doesn’t necessarily interest the immigrant population of the country in question … we don’t schedule well-known artists, stars, etc. However, the majority of the immigrant population who is here expects and wants popular music, entertainment, so they’ll listen to the radio or television from back home, whether it’s the Maghreb or Vietnam … if our mission was to provide … shows for the immigrant population, we’d have a different programme. (Kiwan’s interview with a representative of the Maison des cultures du monde, 28 October 2003, translation from French) The publicizing strategies of the Maison des cultures du monde also reflect this sidelining of an immigrant or postmigrant audience. It is argued that press releases regarding the Festival de l’Imaginaire, are sent to Nova magazine, Mondomix and Radio France Culture so as to attract ‘un jeune public parisien branché’ (a young trendy Parisian audience) as opposed to ‘un public communautaire’ (a community audience). (Presentation of the Maison des cultures du monde, 29 October 2003). Finally, it is significant that the Maison des Cultures du monde was set up as a cultural association by the Ministry of Culture and Communication in 1982. It receives 75 per cent of its budget from the Ministry of Culture (mainly from the Département des affaires internationales for the artistic programme) and a rather more symbolic amount of funding from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Direction des Affaires Culturelles of the City of Paris. The targeting of ‘European’, branché and Parisian audiences and the funding by the Ministry of Culture, as well as the focus on the international rather than local-based artists of immigrant background sets the Maison apart from those organizations which do engage with local immigrant or postmigrant populations. An important institution which works in this vein is the FASILD.

The FASILD: Fonds d’action et de soutien pour l’intégration et la lutte contre les discriminations4 Although, it might initially be surprising to compare a public cultural institution such as the Maison des cultures du monde and a public body which only deals rather marginally with cultural production, it is


significant that the FASILD is one of the few institutions which explicitly works with immigrant and postmigrant emerging artists. The FASILD is a public body which was set up by the Ministry of Social Affairs and the DPM (Direction des populations et des migrants) in 1958 (when it was called the FAS).5 Its initial brief was to accompany migrant workers and their families in a process of integration into the ‘host society’ through access to employment, housing and education. However, the activities of the FAS developed in a number of ways, one of which involved culture. The albeit small Direction de l’action culturelle et de l’information has a number of wide-ranging aims and objectives: • To encourage access to culture, through special reduced tariff schemes and so on. • To facilitate access to cultural creation – through the funding of workshops alongside a more high-profile cultural event or through the funding of the projects of young artists of immigrant/postmigrant background (cinema, theatre for example). • To work towards the changing of representations of immigrant and postmigrant populations. These specifically cultural aims are inscribed in the wider FASILD brief of working towards integration and against racial discrimination. Unlike the Maison des cultures du monde, the Ministry of Culture is only marginally involved in the Cultural Action department at the FASILD. The interlocutor they work with at the Ministry of Culture is the DDAT, whose brief concerns the more social aspect of culture.6 Furthermore, unlike the Maison des cultures du monde, the FASILD works on a regular basis with socio-cultural organizations. In terms of the selection criteria for funded projects, the FASILD insists that the main issue at stake is artistic quality but that there should also be a ‘projet pédagogique’ and an involvement of local populations of immigrant and postmigrant origin whether they are the artists or the target audience/public. As such, projects such as the work of the association Puls’art or the theatre company Zarina Khan are funded because of their respective work with marginalized young people around themes such as ‘identity, exile, displacement, suffering, pain’ (Kiwan’s interview with a representative of the FASILD, 18 July 2003, translation from French). Festivals such as Les Rencontres de la Villette, le Festival international du film féminin, Festival des Trois Continents or Cinéma d’Afrique also receive funding from the FASILD’s culture department because they


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work towards the ‘greater awareness amongst the French public’ as well as facilitating access to culture. These observations are not intended as a criticism of the FASILD itself, but rather they are discussed so as to highlight a system of funding which forces many immigrant and postmigrant artists into the sociocultural end of the culture spectrum. Although the representative of the FASILD who was interviewed argues that ‘we try to work towards our own disappearance, like all social work … once the young artists are known, we withdraw, and at that moment, it’s the mainstream (common law) which should take over’, it should be highlighted that this two-tier funding, which in part stems from unmarked hierarchies in cultural policy norms, can become something of a trap for immigrant and postmigrant artists from less well-off backgrounds (Kiwan’s interview with a representative of the FASILD, 18 July 2003, translation from French).

Berlin As Germany’s capital city, both federal and state government efforts have concentrated over the past decade on bolstering Berlin’s image as a ‘world-open’ (weltoffene) city composed of diverse groups, fast-changing and in synchronicity with global cultural flows (Held, 2000; Hoffmann and Schneider, 2002; Vertovec, 1996). To support such claims, city representatives point to the ethnic diversity of Berlin’s population as well as to the range and quality of cultural institutions and artistic scenes. Here again, two different concepts of culture are mobilized: culture as a marker of ethnic groups, traditions and values, and culture as ‘high art’. The characterization of Berlin as a world-open city hinges upon both its ‘multicultural’ composition and its creative-artistic vibrancy. Yet the very artists who could claim to represent Berlin in this double sense, namely those with migrant background, have so far not been able to capitalize on the city’s image campaign. In order to understand the current situation of immigrant art and the role of non-Western cultural influences in the allegedly ‘world-open’ city of Berlin, it is important to take a look at the specific institutional structures and policy conditions under which immigrant and postmigrant artists can engage in cultural production and find audiences for their work. Two cultural institutions deserve particular mention when it comes to the representation of non-Western cultural traditions and developments in the arts, and thus Berlin’s ‘world-open’ image. The first one,


the House of World Cultures (Haus der Kulturen der Welt, HKW) receives its funds from the federal government, which signals its strategic importance in representing the new capital city. The second institution, the Workshop of Cultures (Werkstatt der Kulturen, WdK), operates on a much smaller budget which comes mainly from the city’s Commissioner for Integration and Migration. A comparison between the two institutions can serve as a concrete example of how immigrant and postmigrant artists risk ‘disappearing’ in the gap between culture in the singular and culture(s) in the plural. The House of World Cultures The House of World Cultures (Haus der Kulturen der Welt, HKW) might be Berlin’s strongest argument for taking seriously enough the artistic potential and relevance of non-Western cultural influences. The HKW is Berlin’s most prestigious cultural institution, focusing explicitly on the representation of artistic work from outside of Europe and the ‘Western World’. In terms of cultural policy in Berlin, the HKW plays an important role as a showcase institution for Berlin’s artistic vibrancy – to both the rest of Germany and to the rest of the world. It had been adopted as a cultural institution by the federal government in 2001, along with several other institutions likely to enhance Berlin’s image as a capital city. For artists, being represented at the HKW is public confirmation that one has reached a high level of artistic development, competing internationally with what is cutting-edge. Just what is considered cutting-edge is explained in the HKW’s mission statement with reference to migration, international networks, cultural flows and hybridity under current conditions of globalization, producing new challenges for artistic production and cooperation. Thus, the figure of the migrant is key for the House of Cultures and the fluid concept of culture it tries to promote. In a more concrete sense, however, migrants have far less representation at the House of World Cultures. Immigrants and postmigrants living in the city of Berlin are not particularly targeted as an audience for HKW events,7 and no special effort is made to recruit them as performing artists. When describing the pedagogical mission of the House of World Cultures, the general secretary Hans Georg Knopp paints a telling picture of its audience: It is something of a pedagogical mission, one could say, but one that is filled with art, to make people realise that there are other values, be it social or aesthetic ones, that there are other modes of expression, which carry the same value as that which I know, that


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which represents my culture. (Kira Kosnick’s interview with Hans Georg Knopp, 21 August 2003, translation from German). While cultural hybridity and global flows are very much at issue in the contents of what the House tries to offer Berlin, these processes seem not to have transformed the city itself – at least not that part of the population which Knopp imagines as the HKW’s audience. This targeted audience seems to be in firm possession of one particular culture, against which the equality of non-European cultures needs to be asserted. Thus, implicitly, cultural difference still comes from elsewhere. Berlin needs to be taught about the cultural dimensions of globalization, it does not appear to participate in them. As much as cultural hybridity, migration and globalization are addressed in the work of artists and thinkers presented by the HKW, they are almost always brought in from ‘outside’ the city, and rarely represent the cultural complexity and dynamics of Berlin itself. Even the 2003 popdeurope festival, claiming to represent the diversity of popular music cultures that the children of immigrants have created in European metropolises, did not enter Berlin into the mix. The concerts offering ‘migrating sounds in and out of Europe’ did not feature any Berlin musicians, but brought them in from Lisbon, Marseilles, Budapest and London. Turkish musical influences were represented by world-music artist Mercan Dede, who lives in Toronto. Knopp refuses to shoulder the responsibility of promoting the city’s immigrant and postmigrant minorities, stating that artistic quality alone should be taken into account at the HKW: ‘I don’t give any credit because of someone’s background, not in an art project. Neither positive nor negative’ (ibid.). He sees no potential conflict between this dismissal of relative standards regarding artistic quality and the HKW’s mission to assert the equality of non-European modes of expression. But the precise nature of his standards of judgment when it comes to ‘good art’ remains unclear. If artistic quality will automatically assert itself and rise to the top, one would indeed have to infer from the line-up at the House of World Cultures that such quality is lacking among immigrant and postmigrant artists in the city. However, there is another institution concerned with non-European culture which explicitly focuses on work emerging in Berlin itself, the Werkstatt der Kulturen (Workshop of Cultures). The Workshop of Cultures While the HKW has its home within a stone’s throw of the German Chancellor’s office in the centre of Berlin, the Workshop of Cultures (Werkstatt der Kulturen, WdK) is located in one of Berlin’s poorest


neighbourhoods with a high percentage of immigrant residents, the district of Neukölln. Conceptualized as a ‘workshop for integration in a new Berlin’ in 1993, the WdK wants to play an active role in facilitating intercultural encounter, exchange and transformation among and across different ethnic, cultural and religious groups in the city. The former Commissioner for Foreigner Affairs (Ausländerbeauftragte des Senats, today renamed Commissioner for Integration) who coined the term ‘workshop for integration’ (Integrationswerkstatt) was a driving force behind its inception, and the office continues to provide the basic financial support for the WdK. At present, the Workshop has a secured budget of no more than 625,000 euros per year – just enough to cover basic maintenance costs. Financial support for the WdK’s different projects has to be obtained through grants from other funding sources. Presenting intercultural art is only one of the aims of the WdK, as part of a wider conception of intercultural exchange and development to which the Workshop seeks to contribute. As a ‘forum for the multicultural civil society’, the WdK foregrounds not so much artistic as social criteria and goals, stating in its profile that it understands itself ‘as a place of active citizenship and self-determined engagement with the legal and political processes of the democratic society’ (WdK, 2004). It is thus culture(s) in the plural, particularly immigrant cultures deemed to form part of a multicultural Berlin, which are key at the Workshop of Cultures, not culture as a singular domain of artistic production. While both the House of World Cultures and the Workshop of Cultures speak of cultures in the plural, it is culture in the singular, with reference to an implicit standard of artistic quality, which dominates the work at the HKW. The Workshop of Cultures is best-known in the city for its yearly Carnival of Cultures (Karneval der Kulturen), with four days of street festivities and a large parade to which a wide range of immigrant groups in the city contribute. The parade is advertised as a demonstration of Berlin’s cultural diversity, put on display by ‘participants from more than eighty nations living in Berlin’. Tying the cultural diversity of urban life in Berlin to ethnic groups which are mobilized to represent their cultural distinctiveness, it is difficult for the Carnival to avoid accusations of staging a form of ‘picturesque multiculturalism’ (Frei, 2003). The WdK’s managerial staff does not subscribe to a picturesque vision of urban multiculturalism at all, and works politically to challenge the boundaries of publicly financed culture in the singular. Yet, given its main sources of funding, its public mission and its representational practices in the city, the Workshop of Cultures operates as a firmly socio-cultural institution, rather than as an arts-oriented one.


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The comparison between the House of World Cultures and the Workshop of Cultures can thus highlight the dilemma that opens up for immigrant artists who seek artistic support and recognition in their city of residence, trapping them in socio-cultural contexts. As the director of the Workshop of Cultures, Andreas Freudenberg explained succinctly in a debate at Berlin’s House of Representatives (Abgeordnetenhaus Berlin): There is a big difference between international art and international arts exchange and that what is developing in terms of intercultural work in urban milieux. The difference is that in one area, impulses are brought in from outside, while the other area brings in and integrates the substance available here, thus taking on and culturally working through experiences that take place here in the urban milieus. It is important to clearly mark this difference … International cultural work receives support, the urban, intercultural scene does not receive such support. (Ausschuss für Kulturelle Angelegenheiten, 2003: 15, translated from German)

The ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy The above discussion reveals a number of shared features that characterize cultural policy and its effects upon immigrant cultural production in the two cities. Most strikingly, institutional arrangements and cultural funding practices in both Paris and Berlin operate with an implicit distinction between culture in the singular – the high-arts practices that are judged by apparently universal standards of artistic quality – and culture(s) in the plural – the cultural contributions made by members of diverse ethnic and immigrant groups. In the German context, they are expected to exhibit and hold onto particular cultural traditions, while in the French context they are often expected to work on questions of migrant memory and work towards social cohesion. Cultural diversity in this sense is always associated with ethnic minorities, not with the cultural contributions of artists emerging from the majority society. Conversely, artists with an immigrant background face difficulties in having their work acknowledged as art that aspires to artistic quality of a ‘universal’ kind. In order to analyse the practical dynamics and discursive regimes through which immigrant artists are relegated to the domain of culture(s) in the plural, we propose to borrow a concept that carries considerable potential for irritation in both the French and the German context. Yet, to investigate the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy in both


cities offers a way to reveal the implicit rather than explicit bias of policymaking and discourses about culture which effectively keep immigrant artists in the position of cultural ‘Other’. We want to use whiteness not as a category of racial classification, but as paradigmatic position of dominance from which ‘Otherness’ is constructed. Whiteness has been established as an object of study and analytical concept in the United States to investigate how structural positions of privilege and power are simultaneously constructed and masked (Frankenberg, 1993). Noting that the study of ‘race’ had been by and large focused on people of colour, scholars have focused on the question of how whiteness could become an implicit norm against which racial ‘otherness’ is measured and represented (Dyer, 1993, 1997). It is precisely the lack of an obvious racial bias within seemingly neutral institutional practices and discourses that characterizes white privilege and establishes whiteness as an unmarked, normative position (Hartigan, 1997). It is the racial or ethnic ‘Others’ that carry the burden of ‘race’ as a category of difference and deviance from the norm, and they often carry it even within explicitly anti-racist discourses (Bonnett, 1997). Along similar lines, Janet Halley has analysed the obsession with publicly identifying gays and lesbians in the USA as the implicit construction of heterosexuality, stable as a category and norm only in the context of labelling its Other (Halley, 1993). The naturalization of dominant identity categories, stabilized through the very practices of labelling the ‘Other’, is thus not limited to racial or ethnic hierarchies. Similarly, by aiming to investigate the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy in Berlin and Paris, we do not want to claim that policy-makers in the city actually operate with racial categories. Instead, we propose to use the concept of whiteness to analyse how the difference between ‘culture’ in the singular and ‘cultures’ in the plural inscribes immigrant and postmigrant cultural production as ‘Other’, denoting the primacy of ethno-cultural and social difference over artistic ambition (Kosnick, 2004).

Berlin The culture budgets in both Paris and Berlin serve as a stark reminder what kind of culture is deemed most worthy of state support. The 2003 cultural budget for Berlin reveals the primacy of ‘high cultural’ institutions as a matter of city-state concern, with socio-culture and immigrant cultural activities ranking lowest on the scale of financial support. As part of the socio-culture category, the fund ‘Project Support in the Area of Cultural Activities of Citizens of Foreign Descent’ (Projektförderung


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im Bereich der kulturellen Aktivitäten von Bürgerinnen/Bürgern ausländischer Herkunft) has been established to offer competitive grants to immigrants. In the information material distributed by the Senate Administration, the criteria for funding are described as follows: Support is given to artistic and socio-cultural projects of citizens of foreign descent living in Berlin, at the centre of which is the maintenance and development of cultural identity, and/or the encouragement of intercultural dialogue. (Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur 2003, translation from German) It is evident that the concept of culture employed in this context refers to cultures in the plural, linking them to ethno-national groups as their representatives. Maintaining cultural identity and promoting intercultural dialogue are socio-cultural objectives which do not appear in any other list of funding criteria published by the Senate Administration. Intended as a kind of affirmative action tool to increase participation of immigrant and postmigrant artists, the fund for ‘citizens of foreign descent’ has thus become something of a trap, keeping artists out of other funding circuits which offer considerably more money and/or institutional continuity. A Senate Administration representative for the fund revealed in an interview that the advisory council which makes funding decisions in the area of non-institutionalized theatre projects, regularly turns away Turkish applicants, advising that they should rather submit an application to the ‘foreign-descent’ fund.8 Incidentally, the fund’s resources have been more than halved over the past ten years. Instead of being just an additional source of funding complementing those opportunities open to everyone, the fund thus now poses a hindrance to immigrant participation in ‘mainstream’ categories of cultural production, effectively keeping out people and issues deemed to represent culture(s) with a plural ‘s’. In this sense, it is possible to speak of the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policies in Berlin. The ‘whiteness’ of the Kultur establishment in Germany is stabilized by deep-seated expectations that immigrant and postmigrant cultural contributions will be either concerned with maintaining ethno-cultural traditions or with expressing cultural hybridity, always invoking culture as a marker of ethnic group identity. Even though the Ausländer (foreigner) concept has gradually become less acceptable as a term for immigrants and their descendents in German political discourses, the cultural contributions of immigrant and postmigrant artists are expected to be statements about cultural difference and Otherness. They receive


state support not as artistic achievements, but as cultural productions that either sustain this Otherness or make it intelligible for the ‘majority’ population under the heading of ‘intercultural dialogue’.

Paris In Paris, the expectations with regards to immigrant and postmigrant cultural production are simultaneously social and cultural. The French Republican tradition does not acknowledge or explicitly encourage the public recognition of cultural difference. As such, hierarchical and exclusionary mechanisms which are at work within the field of culture mean that when referring to immigrant and postmigrant cultural production, cultural policy representatives often articulate terms like social bond (lien social), ‘les publics de proximité’, integration, citizenship and les cultures issues de l’immigration (cultures of immigrant origin). However, there are still important parallels between Paris and Berlin in terms of the city Culture Budgets and priorities. The 2003 and 2004 Culture Budgets in Paris reveal that the vast majority of public funding is channelled into the more ‘glitzy’ projects. The 2003 Budget makes a point of revealing how many billions of euros are pumped into the Gaîté Lyrique project to set up a digital arts centre. However, as far as the ‘équipements culturels de proximité’9 (neighbourhood cultural facilities) are concerned, the exact sum allocated is not mentioned. Whilst the City’s major project for the next few years is the construction of an international cultural centre in a run down and ‘immigrant’ area of the city (le 104 rue d’Aubervilliers), it is not clear how this centre will be successfully articulated with the local population. The 2004 Culture Budget shows that 800,000 Euros have been donated to the Grande Mosquée de Paris for restoration, yet no explicit mention is made of the amount of funding channelled into ‘diverse places of cultural creation and practices’ and what this actually involves. In both 2003 and 2004, the amount of funding allocated to the restoration of Churches and mainstream cultural institutions such as Le Petit Palais or the Musée d’Art Moderne dwarf the amount of funding put into the soutien à la creation (support for creation) part of the budget (see 2003 and 2004 Paris Culture Budget, www.paris.fr). Indeed, two cultural policy representatives working at the city’s Bureau de la Musique pointed out that the big institutions continue to monopolize the budget.10 The divisions between budgets and Culture/cultures is hinted at in a DRAC Ile-de-France representative’s remark that ‘specific initiatives targeted at immigrant populations concerns the Fasild, not us’


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(Kiwan’s interview with the Direction régionale des Affaires Culturelles, Ile de France, 16 June 2003, translation from French).11 Where immigrant and postmigrant cultural production is specifically considered is at the Délégation à la Politique de la Ville et à l’Intégration. This Delegation, which was set up after the City’s administration swung to the Left in 2001, is located in the peripheral 19th arrondissement (the rest of the City’s prestigious administrative buildings are in the more upmarket 4th arrondissement). Whilst the newly appointed representative for dévéloppement culturel talks about nuanced notions of how cultural policy should intersect with immigrant and postmigrant populations, the Delegation is nevertheless constrained in its funding of pluri-annual projects by a number of pre-established themes: access to reading, relationship to the urban environment and immigrant and immigrant-origin cultures (yet again cultures in the plural) (Kiwan’s interview with a chargé de mission au développement culturel, Délégation à la Politique de la Ville et à l’Intégration, 19 August 2003). In terms of practitioner experiences, some immigrant and postmigrant artists describe how it is difficult for the institutions to consider their work in artistic terms. For example, a senior representative of the New Bled Collective argues that one of the main difficulties they face as an electro-oriental DJ collective is convincing and reassuring the institutions about the events they organize, and in particular the first edition of the itinerant music festival, the Barbès Tour, which focused on Algerian and ‘made in Paris’ postmigrant music: we had to overcome reticence linked to the fact that it was perceived as, in inverted commas, an ‘Algerian event’ and … some institutional and prefectural authorities … everyone was worried about trouble … we had to convince them that it wasn’t a ghetto event … that it wasn’t exclusively focusing on Algeria or Algerians, that we had a citizen approach here in France and that this citizen approach was to say ‘Ok we’re bringing in some Algerian musicians but we’re also showcasing the musicians here who are of Algerian origin’. (Kiwan’s interview with the New Bled Vibrations Collective, 11 December 2003, translation from French) Despite the fact that for the 2004 edition of the Barbès Tour, funding from the Integration and Culture departments of the City was secured, it is still significant that the New Bled Vibrations collective felt obliged to convince the authorities of the integration and citizen potential of the event.


It is also significant when a representative of the hip-hop dance association Moov’n Aktion points out that it is very difficult to receive artistic recognition from the Culture institutions and that when they do, there are often social demands attached: What bothers me is when you want to get funded, they don’t fund at the level which reflects the worth of the project, and the interest that they show in you, it’s almost only related to your capacity to be an interlocutor for a certain type of public and the interest is not based on the artistic worth … The main hip hop dance companies, don’t have the same artistic budget as the main companies in other genres, whereas when you take a closer look, they fill the same type of venues, they play in the same places of cultural excellence. (Kiwan’s interview with Y., Moov’n Aktion, 22 July 2003, translation from French) This type of social, rather than artistic expectation, is reflected in the Ministry of Culture’s communiqué in the Rencontres de la Villette hip-hop festival brochure (it is one of the funders of the festival): ‘Culture is an essential factor for individual development … This is why the Ministry pays particular attention to everything which favours the social bond’12 (translation from French). However, whilst it is possible to speak of the ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy in Paris, the picture becomes more complicated in the commercial world of the cultural industries. For Paris has become a major centre of opportunity for immigrant and postmigrant musicians in both the genres of world and urban music. In a context where French international music sales have been seriously challenged by Anglophone production, the French Music Export Office works closely with major French record companies in the promotion of ‘French music’ abroad in the highly competitive music industry. The Ministries of Foreign Affairs and Culture and Communication are also financial partners and make contributions of 30 per cent and 18 per cent respectively to the Office’s budget. Interestingly, artists such as the Senegalese rap group Daara J, Congolese-origin rapper Passi, or the Malian-born singer Rokia Traoré, are thus financially backed and funded to be international representatives of French-World music, since they are signed to French record labels and produced in France. Yet it is important to focus on other spheres of artistic creation – such as theatre, literature or plastic arts, for although the lucrative music industry is allowing ‘non-European origin’ musicians to excel in their careers in Paris and abroad, to focus purely


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on this field of cultural production ignores other vast fields of cultural production where many immigrant and postmigrant cultural actors are kept on the margins of Culture around Europe.

Conclusions In this chapter we have shown how a two-tier cultural policy system divide between ‘non-immigrant’ high culture on the one hand and the less prestigious urban, socio, immigrant or ethno-cultures on the other, characterizes, to a significant extent, cultural politics in both Paris and Berlin. Whilst specific funding aimed at immigrant and postmigrant artists through the Parisian urban regeneration policy, the FASILD or the ‘Cultural Activities of Citizens of Foreign Descent Fund’ in Berlin, may appear enabling in the first instance, it is important to consider how such infrastructures can in fact become a trap for the people they are meant to serve, as has been shown above. When pointing out the ‘trap’ that the domain of socio-culture has become for many immigrant and postmigrant artists in Paris and Berlin, we neither want to deny the artistic worth of work coming out of sociocultural contexts, nor deny the critical political potential it can have. Rather, we have attempted to draw the reader’s attention to the processes whereby artists of migrant background are encouraged and sometimes forced by funding models and policies to legitimate and frame their art in reference to social objectives and problems, regardless of their artistic intentions. The differentiation between culture in the singular and cultures in the plural has sedimented into institutional arrangements, policies and entrenched discourses which make it extremely difficult for such artists to break out of the socio-cultural trap, leaving ‘high culture’ as a ‘white’ domain in which the absence of people with immigrant background goes more or less unnoticed. It is also not our aim to argue simply for an increased openness of the domain of culture in the singular, rendering it more inclusive with regard to immigrant and postmigrant artists. The solution to the problems outlined in this chapter is not for these artists to simply be absorbed into the high-culture domain in the paternalist sense of ‘adding a bit of colour’. The discussion above instead calls for a more radical challenge to the terms on which the division between socio-culture and highcultural production is based, and to the implicit hierarchy of norms which classifies migrant and post-migrant art as different and hence deviant from high art aesthetic standards. While some cultural institutions in Paris and Berlin have begun to question these standards,


directing their attention towards contemporary artistic developments involving Africa, Asia and Latin America, they have stopped short of acknowledging that their own cities are home to artists whose work could challenge the whiteness of cultural policy. Notes 1 See also below. 2 Most recently, it is significant that a ‘museum’ or a cité nationale de l’histoire de l’immigration, focusing on the history of immigration to France will open at the beginning of 2007. The project, which was initially commissioned by Prime Minister Jospin in 2001, has been taken up by the now right-wing government. The slogan of the project is ‘Their History is our History’ and the aim is to show and recognize the contribution that immigrants have made to France and to place immigration at the heart of the understanding of French national identity. The cité will be a national cultural institution which is centrally funded by the Ministry of Culture, the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Employment, Work and Social Cohesion. However, and rather significantly, the largest contribution to the budget will come from the Ministry of Employment and Social Cohesion. 3 All translations are the authors’ own, unless stated otherwise. 4 This translates as Funds for action and support of integration and the struggle against discrimination. 5 FAS – Fonds d’action sociale. 6 DDAT – Délégation au développement et à l’action territoriale. This delegation has now become part of the DDAI – Délégation au développement et aux affaires internationales. 7 Though space is occasionally let to immigrant organizations for independent events. 8 Kira Kosnick’s interview with Manfred Fischer at the Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur, 20 May 2003. 9 Proximity or neighbourhood-level cultural facilities, as opposed to the prestigious high-art cultural institutions (opera, theatres etc.). 10 Kiwan’s interview with two representatives of the Bureau de la Musique, Direction des Affaires Culturelles de Paris, 17 July 2003, translation from French). 11 The DRACs – Directions régionales des affaires culturelles are the regional wings of the national Ministry of Culture and Communication. 12 See Rencontres de la Villette Festival brochure 2003.

References Ahearne, J. (2003) ‘Cultural Policy in the Old Europe: France and Germany’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 9 no. 2: 127–31. Ausschuss für Kulturelle Angelegenheiten (2003) Wortprtokoll der 25. Sitzung. Berlin: Abgeordnetenhaus. Bonnett, A. (1997) ‘Geography, Race and Whiteness: Invisible Traditions and Current Challenges’, Area, vol. 29: 193–9. Cole, A. (1998) French Politics and Society. London: Prentice Hall.


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Deutscher Städtetag (ed.) (1992) ‘Fünf Jahrzehnte Kommunale Kulturpolitik’, DST-Beiträge zur Bildungs – und Kulturpolitik, series C., no. 20 (Köln). Dubois, V. and Laborier, P. (2003) ‘The “Social” in the Institutionalisation of Local Cultural Policies in France and Germany’, International Journal of Cultural Policy, vol. 9 no. 2: 195–206. Dyer, R. (1993) The Matter of Images: Essays on Representations. London: Routledge. Dyer, R. (1997) White. London: Routledge. Elpers, S., Fischer, M., Müller, M. and Wiesand, A.J. (eds) (2000) Handbook of Cultural Affairs in Europe, 3rd edn. Baden-Baden: Nomos. Frankenberg, R. (1993) White Women, Race Matters: The Social Construction of Whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Frei, K. (2003) Wer sich maskiert, wird integriert. Der Karneval der Kulturen in Berlin. Berlin: Hans Schiler. Halley, J. (1993) ‘The Construction of Heterosexuality’, in M. Warner (ed.), Fear of a Queer Planet: Queer Politics and Social Theory. Minneapolis, London: University of Minnesota Press. Hartigan, J. (1997) ‘Establishing the Fact of Whiteness’, American Anthropologist, vol. 99 no. 3: 495–505. Heinrichs, W. (1997) Kulturpolitik und Kulturfinanzierung. Munich: C.H. Beck Verlag. Held, J. (ed.) (2000) ‘Kunst und Kulturpolitik der 90er Jahre in den Zentren der Welt – Zur Einführung’, in Metropolenkultur. Wiemar: VDG: 9–19. Hoffmann, H. and Schneider, W. (eds) (2002) Kulturpolitik in der Berliner Republik. Köln: Dumont. Kolland, D. (2003) ‘ “Kiez International” in der “Contact Zone”: Interkulturelle Konzepte in Berlin-Neukölln’. Berlin: Jahrbuch Beitrag. Kosnick, K. (2004) ‘The Gap between Culture and Cultures: Cultural Policy in Berlin and its Implications for Immigrant Cultural Production’, European University Institute, Working Paper RSCAS no. 2004/41. Kosnick, K. (2000) ‘Building Bridges – Media for Migrants and the PublicService Mission in Germany’, European Journal of Cultural Studies, vol. 3 no. 3: 321–44. Poirrier, P. (2002) Les Politiques culturelles en France. Paris: La Documentation Française. Poujol, G. and Simonot, M. (2001) ‘Militants, animateurs et professionnels: le débat “socio-culturel” (1960–1980)’, in P. Moulinier (ed.), Les Associations dans la vie et la politique culturelles – Regards croisés. Paris: Département des etudes et de la prospective: 89–105. Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur (2003) Merkblatt – Projektförderung im Bereich der Kulturaktivitäten von Bürgerinnen/Bürgern ausländischer Herkunft für das Jahr 2003. Berlin: Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur. Vertovec, S. (1996) ‘Berlin Multikulti: Germany, “Foreigners” and “World Openness” ’, New Community vol. 22 no. 3: 381–99. Weil, P. (2002) Qu’est-ce qu’un Français? Histoire de la nationalité française depuis la Révolution. Paris: Editions Grasset & Fasquelle. Weiss, C. (1999) Stadt ist Bühne. Kulturpolitik heute. Hamburg: Europäische Verlagsanstalt.


Websites and other documentation http://www.bundesregierung.de/ Artikel/-,413,440031/dokument.htm http://www.hkw.de House of World Cultures (Berlin) online mission statement. www.paris.fr City of Paris website. http://www.werkstatt-der-kulturen.de/index2.htm Workshop of Cultures website. French Ministry of Culture and Communication and Urban Ministry (Ministère délégué à la Ville) 2000–2006 Culture pour la ville-cultures de la ville programme. Rencontres de la Villette Festival Brochure, 22 October–9 November 2003 (Annual Urban dance, theatre, cinema Festival, Parc de la Villette, Paris).

Interviews Kiwan Interview with a senior representative of the New Bled Vibrations Collective, 11 December 2003. Interview with a representative of La Maison des cultures du Monde, 28 October 2003. Interview with a Cultural Development Officer, Délégation à la Politique de la Ville et à l’Intégration, 19 August 2003. Interview with Y., Moov’n Aktion, 22 July 2003. Interview with a representative of the FASILD, 18 July 2003. Interview with two representatives of the Bureau de la Musique, Direction des Affaires Culturelles de Paris, 17 July 2003. Interview with a representative of the Direction régionale des Affaires Culturelles, Ile de France, 16 June 2003.

Kosnick Interview with Hans Georg Knopp, House of World Cultures, 21 August 2003. Interview with Manfred Fischer at the Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur, 20 May 2003.

7 Despite and Beyond Cultural Policy: Third and Fourth-Sector Practices and Strategies in Vienna and Belgrade Martina Böse, Brigitta Busch and Milena Dragićević Šešić

Introduction Many cultural activities both at the level of production and consumption take place outside of the realm of public subsidies or private sponsoring. This chapter will address this particular field of cultural practices and their inherent strategies and look into their interrelationship with and relevance for cultural policy. The authors of these practices and strategies are cultural practitioners, producers and consumers, as well as cultural intermediaries who have a vested interest in shaping the cultural landscape of the city and try to do so independently of both the state and the private economy. Many of these emerging initiatives take their origin in the non-commercial and non-governmental realm, referred to as the ‘third sector’. Others have emancipated themselves, however, from the third sector and constitute a novel realm of action in the cultural sphere that is located in yet another non-commercial and nongovernmental realm; we will refer to them as ‘fourth-sector practice’ and discuss their embedding in city cultures based on empirical case studies in Belgrade and Vienna. These two cities offer a number of similarities: above all, their geopolitical position, the historically dominant role of the state in comparison with commercial agencies and the connectivity of the two locations through migration. In the first section we will discuss the concept of the ‘third sector’ and the related and better-known notion of ‘civil society’. We will then proceed to look into the more recent past of (migration-related) cultural policies in Belgrade and Vienna. The third part of the chapter is made up of a discussion of the case studies that supports our proposition 131

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regarding the relevance of third and fourth-sector cultural practice for cultural policy development.

Third-sector practice and civil society in theory The third sector is commonly described as those organizations or forms of management situated between the market and the state, that do not correspond to societal conventions of hegemonic cost–benefit calculations (Schwendtner, 2000a: 37).1 As has been pointed out elsewhere, there is no single ‘correct’ definition of the third sector in Europe, with different collective nouns involving varied criteria of definition used for different purposes and in different contexts. Besides, specific ‘indigenous’ conceptualizations have emerged at country level. While the term ‘third sector’ has already been used in the USA as well as in Continental Europe in the 1970s, research interest in the third sector in Europe has only grown more recently.2 The role of third-sector agencies as suppliers of services from which the welfare state is progressively withdrawing, has made this field of action increasingly relevant to policy analysis. Particular attention has been drawn to the development of an emerging European third-sector policy (Kendall and Anheier, 1999). In comparison with other fields of third-sector agency, such as social and health care, the field of culture has received little scholarly attention so far. The particular connection of third-sector activity and cultural production and/or consumption has mostly been considered within the context of either socio-culture or political art (Rollig and Sturm, 2002; Raunig, 2000b). In both cases, cultural activity tends to be viewed as part of a wider socio-political project, whether as a tool or medium of democratization or as an expression of civil society, which is in turn ‘proposed as the essential feature of any democracy’ (Hardt, 2000: 158). The concept of ‘civil society’, labelled elsewhere as the ‘big brother’ of the third sector (Raunig, 2000b), saw a revival in the course of the 1990s both in theoretical and political discourse, which is indebted among other factors to the political restructuring of Eastern Europe and its application to ‘transitional societies’, as well as to the increasing retreat of the state in neo-liberalist economies. The evocation of the concept ‘civil society’ is widely associated with the belief in the societygrounded shaping and implementation of politics and as such linked to the hope for a ‘more of’ democracy and a higher level of social justice. The positive conception of civil society has re-emerged already with reference to the circles of dissidents and civil movements in Eastern and Central Europe in the 1970s (Zimmer, 2002; Alexander,

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1998) and can be traced back to its association with freedom from the state in the writings of social contract theorists Hobbes and Locke. The narrative of civil society in contemporary discourse ‘basically refers to an entire tradition of political thought which has dealt with the issues of human emancipation’ (Chandhoke, 1995: 33), and it is these issues that much third-sector activity in the cultural sector seems to be attending to. Yet another perspective on the concept and social dialectic of civil society emphasizes not its democratic but its authoritarian side. The positive conception of civil society was already contested by Marx, who treated civil society as a superstructure, that camouflaged the domination of capitalism and the capitalist class, and Gramsci, who conceived it as the sphere where the capitalist state constructs its project of hegemony (Chandhoke, 1995). Foucault pointed to the disciplinary base of civil society and its implication in power relations and regimes of normalization. Following Foucault, civil society could not be separated analytically from political society or ‘the State’, but formed part of the forces of ‘statization’ (étatisation). More recently Michael Hardt has argued that the ‘social foundations necessary for the construction and sustenance of civil society’ have increasingly been undermined (Hardt, 2000: 158). While this does not mean, that the ‘mechanisms of rule and organization that characterized civil society no longer exist or function’, as Hardt (ibid.: 169) emphasized, the withering of civil society necessitates a return to the investigation of creative social practices and networks of sociality and forms of cooperation in contemporary society. It is these practices, networks and forms of cooperation that we will investigate in the specific context of cultural production. Whilst not adopting a definite stance towards the notion and state of ‘civil society’, we will take into consideration the historical contingency of the circle of civil society actors and agencies which has been emphasized in more recent analyses. ’The civility of civil society is not one of its essential characteristics’, as Bauerkämper (2003) has pointed out. Nor is civil society a space that is inherently democratic or progressive. However, we will argue that third-sector actors and agencies that may be attributed to the realm of civil society can significantly contribute to the shaping of cultural policy results and outcomes. Furthermore, they can engage in forms of action that go beyond the bracket between state and market, within which the third sector has been commonly located. To achieve a better understanding of the emergence of these activities and strategies in our case studies, we need to firstly review the development of cultural policy in the two locations Vienna and Belgrade.


Third-sector practice in Belgrade’s and Vienna’s city cultures The connections between Belgrade and Vienna are manifold not only in a remote historical context prior to nation-state formation, but also in more recent times. Labour migration from the space of former Yugoslavia to Austria began with state-organized recruitment in 1966. An Austrian recruitment office was opened in Belgrade and served as a turning point also for workers from rural areas. Today a little less than half of the migrant population in Vienna originates from the area of former Yugoslavia and particularly from Serbia (about one-third of all) (Wiener Integrationsfonds, 2001: 10). Both cities, Belgrade and Vienna, inscribed themselves on the geopolitical map in the time after the Second World War not only as capitals of the respective states. Belgrade became a major centre for the movement of the non-aligned and attracted temporary/elite migration. Vienna was eager to overcome the dead-end situation which resulted from its position close to the Iron Curtain along the Hungarian and the Czechoslovak border. The city authorities and the then Social Democrat government therefore proposed Vienna as a third UN city, as a meeting place between East and West. This geopolitical positioning expressed itself in both cities on the level of cultural policies in an emphasis on an international and cosmopolitan orientation. In both states, in the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia with its planned economic system, and in Austria with its social market economy, state influence exerted a stronger regulatory power than in liberal market economies. Therefore, authorities retained a moulding influence on cultural policy longer than in other contexts. In both, significant transformations occurred with the social movements in the 1970s and with the geopolitical changes towards the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s. Belgrade 1970–2000: countering identity policies Looking at the role of civil society and third-sector activities in the cultural field in Belgrade, we can note 1968 as a turning point after which dissident artistic expression and civil society movements developed in different directions. Dissident art, which was explicitly political without questioning the bases of the socialist system, developed within elite culture and its institutions, thus lacking a wider reception. On the other side, radical art – labelled as ‘alternative art’ euphemistically to hide its political significance – flourished in newly created cultural and media spaces3 such as Radio Studio B and the youth press, questioning the system by exploring new artistic practices and introducing new


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expressions, in a mixed-media approach. Although these spaces and structures had been government-created, they were by definition spaces for social and cultural movements and organizations of citizens.4 Many artists found a space there of freedom for artistic explorations and for challenging the system through the arts. A more vivid history of independent arts-based civil society movements can be traced back, however, to the implementation of the law on ‘temporary and permanent working communities of artists’ at the end of 1970s. This was a period of liberalization and democratization of cultural policy in both the state and the city of Belgrade. ‘Working communities’ of artists were created for the purpose of both fund-raising and the production of turnover, at first by film artists in the context of ‘partisan movies’. In the 1980s, the first cultural permanent community of artists and cultural workers, Signs of Culture, was created in the workshop of one of the artists. Its aim was to facilitate access to creative activities and to promote culture in Belgrade neighbourhoods through creative workshops for different population groups, funded partly by local authorities, partly by the Federal government. Paradoxically, the art created within those, effectively independent and self-created structures, was less radical then the art created under the umbrella of ‘social’ institutions for youth. In the field of radio production, the same period saw significant developments at the level of independent activity, such as the emergence of ‘free’ local radio stations. Recognizing the need for more autonomy, the government granted local governments the authority to create their local media if they wished, according to their own standards. These local radio stations catered for the specific musical demands and social needs of local communities, which had never been recognized as needs that deserved the attention of public authorities. Parallel networks and forms of social gatherings were formed, which could not be easily classified as parts of any existing public, private or civil sector. This – by its nature – private realm created its own world, outside of the public eye and the attention of public policy. Alongside the democratization and the creation of free media, hate speech and nationalistic political manipulation overwhelmed the public space. The issue of identity became a focal point, started by the most unscrupulous manipulation through public television, which provoked the biggest demonstration yet in 1991. With the split of Yugoslavia, with the war and its social and economic crisis, Belgrade became a centre of refugee migration, but also of paramilitary regrouping, of nationalistic paranoia and the fight against it.5 Ethnic and religious identity,


suppressed since the Second World War started to be the main base of regrouping. The labour class disappeared together with a relevant ideologically promoted identity; youth identity was seen also as a ‘socialistic invention’ to turn the youth against parents and family values – so Serbianhood was a major issue in the newly created commercial, independent media. At the international level, Yugoslavia suffered isolation through its erasure from at least those networks and flow maps that had been promoted and supported through governments and intergovernmental organizations. Not only the country but also its regions, cities, groups and individuals were selectively switched off from the ‘global networks of instrumental exchanges’. Beside of the flows of the information society and of the re-unification celebrations of Europe, Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) entered into a counter-current of world processes. As a consequence, the 1990s in Yugoslavia were a period of depression, cynicism, doubts and re-examinations of the critical intelligentsia. Alternative artistic practice in this period had to counter nationalism and xenophobia, but also the emptiness of the official arts scene (claiming to represent the ‘vertical’ Serbian culture). Artists ‘chose’ to boycott the realm of public cultural institutions, consciously refusing to join the attempts of producing the official culture of a nation gone dead. At the same time, some of them avoided the networks of ‘financially supported’ activist artists of the third sector (recognized by donor communities) that was alone in officially getting the chance (as an NGO scene) to being exported and finding acceptance within a global art scene. So, many went into self-isolation and self-activism, producing arts in private and public spaces without official announcements and outside of ‘exhibiting standards’. The mid-1990s were marked by the creation of ‘independent’ (civil society) cultural centres (Rex, Radio B92, Cultural Centre in 1994, the Centre for Cultural Decontamination in 1995, Apostrof in Novi Sad, Konkordija in Vrsac), offering the possibility for the systematic exhibition of radical and alternative artistic production in all creative domains. Festivals, such as Infant in Novi Sad and FIAT in Podgorica, as well as ‘Aeroplan bez motora’ (‘Engineless Aircraft’) in Belgrade some time earlier, have enabled the implementation of projects which would have otherwise found it rather difficult to reach theorists, critics and the media. While these new centres of civil society became new power centres within cultural circles, alternative art had to respond via personal, local and, in some cases, transnational networks in their wish to offer new contents and construe new meanings. This became evident in the


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emergence of ‘house literature’ and exhibitions arranged in private apartments at the beginning of the 1990s. Citizens’ protests in 1996–97 entailed the change of local governments in many cities. Since that period, what had been alternative practice at the beginning of the 1990s, entered the city institutions and festivals as a part of a new, theoretically yet non-described movement, a movement of citizens wanting to articulate their positions, wishes and values through ironic statements. Objects of irony were, for example, the phantasms and prejudices of the Serbian collective unconscious; such as, the fear of the Albanian birthrate and potency, the ‘Islamic danger’, the loss of national and of state identity. The practices of non-registered, alternative artists and intellectual networks complemented the work of independent cultural centres, which served above all as debate centres for civil society, open for discussion of and talks on key problems of this period.6 Alternative art was in effect the only radical art of the 1990s in Belgrade and the only one to offer the positive acceptance of mass rock-culture energy. Slowly, this alternative art was leading artists and intellectuals out of the third sector towards something new – free organized networks and movements, which will be further discussed in the final part of the chapter. Vienna 1970–2000: from ‘culture for all’ to diversity activities of the third sector In Vienna, third-sector initiatives in the cultural field can be traced back to the early 1970s. This period included a process of ‘cultural democratization’ introduced by the Social Democrat government which took office in 1970. It meant a structural change of government arts and culture towards previously neglected cultural fields. This ‘democratisation of the cultural sphere’ happened parallel to the expansion of the welfare state. Catchphrases of the time were ‘culture for all’, a ‘democratic cultural offensive’, ‘access to cultural education’ and the ‘opening up of society’, which partly recollected the workers’ cultural movements founded at the ¨ start of the century. A cultural services office (OKS) was established that should help in breaking down the barriers to participation in cultural life, by bringing artists and creators of culture to schools, adult education institutions, companies and cultural centres. (Ellmeier et al., 2000). However, there has been less commitment to the ‘integration of ethnic minority forms of cultural expression into the cultural mainstream’ (ibid.: 4). A persisting distinction comes into play here, which separates immigrants – or ‘allochthonous minorities’ – from Austria’s recognized


ethnic groups – or ‘autochthonous minorities’ – including Croats in Burgenland, Slovenes in Carinthia and Styria, Hungarians in Burgenland and Vienna, Czechs and Slovaks in Vienna and Roma in all Austrian provinces. Their legal status is recognized in a number of acts, from the 1867 Constitution to the Austrian State Treaty from 1955 and finally the Ethnic Groups Act in 1976. While certain cultural rights of Austria’s recognized minorities were granted in this latter Ethnic Groups Act, migrants have not received any formal recognition as groups with social, political and cultural rights. Up to now, even migrants who have been living in Austria for more than 10 years do not even have the right to vote at the district level,7 and their access to council houses or councilsubsidized living was only granted in 2001. Ideas of intercultural action and a critical approach towards ethnic organizations in Austrian politics in the 1970s was followed in the 1980s by a new emphasis on ethnicity and culture in the context of arts and culture funding (ibid.) The focus on ethnicity and national culture has also characterized many of the associations that have been established by migrants in Austria. Due to the prohibition of open political action by foreign citizens, most self-organizations of migrants have traditionally been sports and cultural associations (Bratić, 2002b) The support of migrants and their associations by the Social Democrat Party in the city of Vienna consisted typically in the promotion of exactly the ‘multiethnic’ through multicultural events and festivals. The 1990s saw a novel interest in and support for multicultural arts and cultural projects in the form of a new division in the Arts Department in 1990, for the ‘promotion of cultural development and regional and culture initiatives’ that engaged in such projects. Many of these cultural initiatives had emerged as non-profit and non-governmental organizations since the 1970s and have played a very active role in voicing their demands, not only for a more inclusive cultural policy but also for a more inclusive society, thus linking old and new conceptions of cultural diversity: on the one hand places of ethnic and social minorities, on the other hand, places whose programmes and activities create a broad spectrum of cultural diversity which – above all in rural areas – had previously not existed to this extent. (Ellmeier et al., 2000: 34) While some of these organizations and projects are primarily cultural projects, others position themselves as social projects that use art primarily as a medium to convey respectively publicize political content.


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Such initiatives are by no means an Austrian phenomenon, but may be described as a transnational landscape of – also culturally expressed – activism (Bratić, 2002a). Due to their variety, it would not do these initiatives justice to subsume them categorically to the realm of socioculture. A common characteristic of these projects is, however, their considerable degree of politicization. Similar to third-sector initiatives in other fields, these cultural initiatives were and still ‘are to some extent taking over the tasks of adult education institutions and are offering new educational and communications opportunities’ (Ellmeier et al., 2000: 34). A classical example of the latter is the free-radio scene,8 whose significance goes beyond their role as media platforms for those segments of the public that are often not catered for by public or commercial broadcasters. This is, for example, evident in minority-language programmes, which were outsourced and now hardly exist in the public radio sector. They also work as talent pools for other media providers and as training grounds for many minority members. The most recent expression of the commissioning of the third sector by the city and the state manifests itself in many projects that have been subsidised within the European funding scheme EQUAL. Following the framework of the initiative, the aims of these measures range from anti-discrimination to improving access to the labour market, from facilitating adaptation to technological change to reducing gender gaps. When ‘culture’ is mentioned, it is often in its (generally essentializing) anthropological meaning, for example with reference to inter-cultural learning and multi-culturalism. A few measures, however, address culturerelated competences of NGOs in another sense – as for example in the context of training in the cultural field, of the employment of cultural workers by NGOs, and of anti-racism in cultural formats. One particular Vienna-based project epitomizes the very link between the recuperation of the third sector and the cultural field, by exploring the employment potential of the third sector for artists and cultural workers.9 While the third sector has for some time provided for the promotion of cultural diversity, as noted above, cultural policies in Austria have remained silent on the issue of diversity or the promotion of cultural diversity. The ‘culture for all’ slogan of the 1970s has instead been replaced by an economization of the cultural field. The promotion of ‘creative industries’ has in turn become invested with the hope that impoverished artists create their own source of income, if their services have not been successfully incorporated by the social service-economy ¨ of a state- or city-commissioned third sector (Bose, 2004).


A wider awareness of the state of its ‘civil society’ has particularly arisen in Austria since the new government in 2000, which included the right-wing Freedom Party as a coalition partner for the first time. At that point, the authors of a Council of Europe-commissioned country report on Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity in Austria described civil society still as ‘weakly developed’ (Ellmeier et al., 2000: 3), which they explained by the ‘extensive influence of political parties in “mapping cultural policy”’ (ibid.). Since then civil society action against the government and its politics has gained importance especially in the traditionally left-governed capital city Vienna. The term ‘civil society’ itself has largely remained controversial and has partly been replaced by the notion of independent or ‘free’ opposition, for which cultural production has provided a central ground and context (Raunig, 2000b).

Transformation of the third cultural sector and emerging fourth-sector practices More recent third-sector analysis has focused on its transnational forms and activities, especially in relation to the field of development work, humanitarian aid and environmental protection. Various authors have contested the view of the third sector as merely a dependent variable between state and market, and have highlighted the intervention and strategy capacity of international or transnational civil society actors (Frantz and Zimmer, 2002; Priller and Zimmer, 2001). On a rather pessimistic note, it has been argued, however, that while transnational NGOs play an important role in the implementation of many projects, their role as decision parameters is still very limited (Rucht, 2003). Although the notion of a ‘global civil society’ remains therefore a controversial issue, trans- and internationally acting NGOs are increasingly recognized as international players while simultaneously acting as transmitters and mouthpiece for their nationally bound constituencies (Zimmer, 2002). Our research in Vienna and Belgrade suggests that these conceptualizations of the third sector and of a transnational civil society cannot adequately capture certain forms of cultural practice in these cities, which are also transnational and emerge outside the public and private realm. We have therefore chosen to introduce the notion of a fourth-sector practice, whose key elements are transitoriness (projectcharacter rather than organization-based) and a subversive perspective, whether by design or by outcome. In highlighting this very aspect of the activities under discussion, we separate them analytically from other activities that have been increasingly incorporated or coopted


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by the state, commonly as social services carried out ‘for the public benefit’ (Reisch, 2001). By embodying and retaining their subversive traits, the practices at issue here recuperate the counter-hegemonic position and demands that third-sector activities used to stand for originally. At the same time, some third-sector organizations are undergoing major transformations that allow them to participate in the shaping of cultural policy at the city level. To illustrate our argument, we will discuss examples from Vienna and from Belgrade in turn. Before, we will lay out the parameters for the mentioned transformations in both cities. In Vienna, on the one hand, the political context of transformed third-sector activity has already been mentioned. What is also referred to as the ‘politicization of the cultural sphere’ has begun with the constitution of a conservative right-wing government coalition in Austria, and this political change has worked as a catalyst of alliances between cultural initiatives and migrant organizations of all kinds.10 A selfproclaimed ‘resistance against blue/black’,11 has been carried significantly by these alliances, which has helped the development of a critical position towards the incorporation of third-sector activity by the state. At the same time, the understanding of ‘cultural’ activity underwent a transformation from earlier usages as a vehicle of inclusion to the novel or rather re-discovered understanding of culture, and in particular the arts, as a vehicle of protest and political expression. This development is often referred to as a ‘politicization of the cultural field’. Parallel to the emergence of creative industries-promotion in the governmental discourse, in particular of the Secretary for Culture, arts subsidies were cut which strengthened resistance on behalf of artists and cultural producers against their utilization in the context of a neo-liberalist turn in Austrian federal politics.12 At the same time, official attempts at city-level aiming at restructuring support for migrants towards better services for new arrivers (for example language courses) came along with subsidy cuts for some cultural initiatives that worked with migrants. In Belgrade on the other hand, the third sector, which was developed on anti-nationalistic premises with vast help from transnational organizations and civil sector networks, was not perceived as an authentic emanation of the interest of the population, and in many respects was not and still is not inclusive, especially when it comes to artistic projects. Little by little, the phenomena and projects described here as fourth-sector projects have started to appear throughout the city of Belgrade, using informal transnational (family, fan…) networks.13


In 2001, when the city of Belgrade finally entered the global flows of capital, information, technology, organizational interactions, and the flows of images, sounds and symbols, its cultural operators and its inhabitants shared an immense sense of belonging to a ‘global community’. Yet very soon the operators realized that their symbols and images had not entered the main flow, but instead specific peripheral flows of communication interconnecting ex-Yugoslav cities like Ljubljana, Rijeka, Pula, Skopje, Sarajevo, Banja Luka, Podgorica and Cetinje, but also the world of Diaspora cities (where due to migration patterns Vienna and Munich are more important than London and Berlin) and new centres of interest (for example Cyprus, Moscow, Sofia, cities in Siberia, for a short period even Minsk). ‘Balkan’ became the word for opening the world’s doors, yet staying ‘exotic’, different, and ‘ethnicized’ was considered the only possibility of being seen. Global attention was hence found via the wild emotional world of Kusturica movies, Zilnik’s exploratory research in the darkness of interrelations of Fortress Europe with the rest (Kennedy comes back home, Fortress Europe), and finally the Gucha music festival of trumpets. Beyond these images, specific cultural forms and practices can be identified that serve to illustrate transformed third-sector and emerging fourth-sector practices in the two locales.

Vienna case studies: ‘gastarbajteri’ and the fourth-sector practices of EMAP radio The first example from Vienna is an exhibition project with the title ‘Gastarbajteri. 40 Years of Labour Migration to Austria’, which was shown at the centrally located Vienna Museum Karlsplatz, the former Historical Museum, as part of the ‘Museums of the City of Vienna’ in public ownership. The exhibition was conceived, organized and prepared by the Vienna-based NGO ‘Initiative Minorities’ (IM), after having been approached by a former labour migrant from Turkey who was looking for assistance in realizing his idea for such an exhibition. By this example, we will illustrate the successful transformation of a third-sector actor in the field of cultural policy. The second example will serve to depict the already mentioned fourthsector practice in the cultural field in Vienna. It is an internet radio station that specializes on worldwide ethno music and reports. Set up in the private space of a lecturer at Vienna University’s Department for Musicology and catered to by his students and music journalists working unpaid, it provides artists with valuable on-air exposure and listeners


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across the world with free music, information and reports on upcoming and past events in the realm of world and ethno music. Following the analytical requirement to distinguish whether it is the (NGO) actor, its issue, its mobilization and/or its addressee that is transnational (Rucht, 2003), we will also show that both examples carry elements of transnationality at more than one level. The Gastarbajteri project included two exhibitions at different sites in Vienna as well as a series of accompanying events (talks, literature readings, ‘disco’ nights and so on). Active participants were based in or originally from different countries and its addressees were Austrian nationals, migrants from different countries and tourists. The transnational composition of the exhibition team expressed a central rationale of the project, which was to realize a ‘co-production of migrants and non-migrants’ instead of the symptomatic ‘representation of migrants by non-migrants’. The issues taken on by the exhibition carry a transnational as well as a national dimension, dealing both with migration (from the recruitment of labour migrants in Turkey to the actual migration and return migration) and with the national legal and economic framework within which migrants live and work in Austria. By putting migrants and the act of migration at its core, the exhibition could be considered as an expression of the ‘subaltern counter-public’ that Nancy Fraser has evoked in her counter-model to Habermas’s liberal public (sphere). The interactions of this counter-public need to be viewed transnationally, and not simply with respect to the ‘internal’ politics of particular states (Bartolovich, 2000: 18). Not only the – transnational, subaltern – character of this public (sphere) demands attention in our context; equally important is the representational space that this subaltern public holds in a cultural event in the city, which shall be further discussed below. A further aspect of transnationality can be seen in the project’s funding sources. Financed from various national and urban funds, the principal funding source which preceded the national and regional readiness to support the project was Interreg, a particular European funding framework that supports ‘border-crossing’ projects. One aspect of the project was hence exactly the implementation of a transnational cooperation, here between the Czech Republic and Austria. The second example, EMAP, is transnational mainly in terms of its core purpose, that is the distribution of its musical products (from Oceania to the Balkans, from Madagascar to Korea) and its addressees or audiences, such as the broadcasting of Madagassy music to listeners in France and other countries besides Austria, or the announcing of concert dates in


cities worldwide. As a project in progress, EMAP shows, furthermore, great potential to go transnational also at the level of production. First attempts towards promoting programme-makers in various parts of the world have been made by the project manager, yet have failed so far mainly due to a lack of funding. As far as the relationship with the city is concerned, both Viennabased projects, Gastarbajteri and EMAP, show similarities in areas that support our argument of the city as the central administrative reference point for cultural policy. These similarities pertain to the communication that characterizes the relationship between third-sector agency and authority. In the case of the Gastarbajteri exhibition, the two agencies IM and Vienna Museum (VM) maintained communication throughout the preparatory process. The initiating move towards a collaboration was made by the VM which offered itself as a host to the exhibition whose preparation was then already well in progress. Upon this invitation, the third-sector agency IM measured the costs and benefits of such collaboration, ranging from the fear of losing full conceptual autonomy to the hope for promotional benefits. Finally, the NGO accepted the offer and entered a process of negotiation, which accompanied the entire preparation of the exhibition. Matters that had to be decided ranged from representational issues, such as the title of the exhibition14 (Busch ¨ and Bose, 2005) and the visual theme of the exhibition posters (a group of waving men in front of a bus that would take them to Austria), to highly political questions regarding the exhibition topics (the risk of folklorization) and their representation. While this process of negotiation became the subject of ongoing self-reflection and even conflict within the team, and of both vigilant curiosity and critique from its outside, one of the principal actors at its centre described it with notions of fairness and mutual learning. Overall, the character of this publicthird-sector cooperation was far from top-down cultural policy. It could be characterized by the opening up of a space for action by a cultural intermediary from the governmental sphere at city level, which the third-sector agency shaped and filled with concrete contents. Far from being only commissioned to carry out an existing concept, the thirdsector agency took the leading role in filling the offered cultural space with a concrete concept and content. This process of shaping also included the conception and implementation of the communication of the exhibition through guided tours, including exhibition talks with various theorists and activists, and tours with school classes. The accompanying programme was


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conceived by a professional agency, called trafo.k, who shares with the third-sector actor IM that commissioned it, on the one hand, a leftoriented, socio-political perspective and a concern with civil society empowerment; and on the other hand the embedding in certain social networks specific to the city. The particular contribution of trafo.k to the project went beyond supplementing the educational agenda of the institution VM. By providing the staff of the VM with a politically clearly positioned thematic introduction into the project, and through its critical interventionist approach to communicating the exhibition externally, the agency introduced a counter-hegemonic, empowering minority agenda into the mainstream state- and city-funded institution ¨ (Bose, 2005). The differences between this more recent form of third-sector–city cooperation and former third-sector activities demand further consideration. As argued in the first section of this chapter, the role adopted by – and increasingly also imposed on – third-sector actors by the state was that of representation of and catering for minorities, in cultural and, more often even, in social fields. Regardless of the integrating force of such activities, they were clearly restraining the space for action of these third-sector actors. Far from such a compartmentalization of minority concerns, our example of the Gastarbajteri project shows the opening of major cultural spaces, a central museum and the main site of the public library, to a relatively small third-sector institution, more specifically a minority representative, together with an invitation to shape the cultural offer provided to the majority society. This constitutes a qualitative step away from a niche policy for ‘the marginalized’, ‘the minorities’, towards what has been referred to as a diversification of the mainstream. Such a process could not have been initiated by the thirdsector actor alone, but depended upon the readiness for collaboration on behalf of public administration. While existing solidarities within the field of third-sector actors might have allowed for a space and therefore a circle of addressees, the particular space that was opened up by the majority institution, Vienna Museum, provided the event and the third-sector agency with a higher profile. It significantly strengthened its role as a player in the cultural field, which was confirmed soon after by an invitation from the city’s cultural administration to contribute as curators to the ‘Mozart Year’, a major cultural event scheduled to take place in the city in 2006. Finally and crucially, the entry of the third-sector agency into the mainstream cultural space has a subversive character. Regardless of the wide approval by the exhibition in mass media, epitomized by


the recommendation in Austria’s most read, right-wing attuned tabloid newspaper (‘an important exhibition – worthwhile a visit!’, Neue Kronen Zeitung, 22 January 2004), the organizers had taken a highly political and counter-hegemonic stance both in the selection of the exhibition themes and the choice of the artefacts on display. While adopting the conventional format of an exhibition, in stark contrast to the ‘communication guerrilla’ strategies that are often advocated by other counterhegemonic projects, the actually mediated content of the exhibition contained clear criticism of Austria’s conservative far-right government coalition. Furthermore, a doubling of the common ethnicization of migrants and the culturalization of their living and working conditions, as in the city-funded displays of a ‘multicultural Vienna’, was deliberately avoided by focusing the display on text documents rather than on objects of everyday life, which had characterized comparable exhibitions.15 One of the most significant features of the project was, hence, the intrusion of a geographically and symbolically central cultural space in the city with the subversive messages from parts of the city’s population that are situated at its symbolical margins. In the second case study, the internet radio station EMAP, examples for the relationship between state agencies and the third-sector project can be found in their cooperation with highly subsidized (high) art institutions. Rather than a sales relationship, this exchange can be characterized by the process of ‘bartering’ or not-for-profit exchange. The recording of a specific series of concerts in one of Vienna’s main classical concert halls, which suited the profile of EMAP particularly well, was for example allowed under different, non-commercial terms than with other broadcasters. Likewise, some actors in the commercial sector, for example some concert venues, allow for the free recording of their concerts by EMAP to support the project, while obviously also benefiting from the free promotion of their establishment to EMAP’s listeners. However, the support for a specialist online radio station that gives online air space to marginalized cultural productions clearly has a culture policy dimension, whether it is performed by a state-subsidized cultural institution or by an actor in the commercial cultural field. Both are deciding against market logics (respectively the ‘societal conventions of hegemonic cost–benefit calculations’ that have been named as the antipode of third-sector action), and for the non-commercial distribution of cultural goods. This approach to cultural exchange – whether in the field of subsidized arts or commercial culture – was developed in a far more pervasive way in Belgrade, as the following case studies will illustrate.


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Belgrade: from DIY cultural activity to the TV serial ‘Mile Against Tradition’? To gain a better understanding of fourth-sector cultural practice in Belgrade, we will look at the cases of ‘The Rose of Wandering’ project by Miroslav Mandić, and of new folk music. The artist Miroslav Mandić started the project called ‘The Rose of Wandering’ 10 years ago, relying on informal networks of friends and supporters, their donations and help as well as their word of mouth promotion. The project was conceived as a ‘pilgrimage’ project, linking different spaces of symbolical value in Europe, by a simple walk of the artist during which he kept a diary with drawings, and a performance at the beginning and the end of each walk (latica ruze). While there are enough items today to create a museum for the project, the artist and his friends are now facing the following dilemma. Shall they become part of a public institution (for example the Museum of Contemporary Arts, where Mandić also held some performances); or create a NGO and become institutionalized within the third sector, which demands statutes and other ‘mission acts’; or, as a third option, register as an agent of Miroslav Mandić in the commercial sector and fulfil all the necessary requirements for an entrepreneurial organization? Without a bank account or a residence, the artist himself rejects the idea of private property as well as the legalization of his artistic activities through official registrations and announcements. By living off donations (‘artist beggar’), moving from one friend to another, giving away his works of art free of charge, Miroslav Mandić is a typical ‘alternative artist’ who operates outside the contemporary economic and information flows, but also outside artistic flows. Due to not being easily contactable, he has never been represented in any kind of group exhibitions. Although his work is difficult to classify as ‘political’, it has important political significance. Without announcement or marketing, his performances attract a large and progressively younger part of the Serbian intellectual community, for whom the idea of the ‘individual, lonely artist’ has something of the noble idea of the artist resisting all kinds of ideological oppressions. In this example, fourth-sector practice developed from the alternative art movement and embodies resistance to standards and norms. It does so by using all means and instruments available in contemporary society, yet not through any ‘official’ nodes or through flows that have been planned by public authorities, created by commercial enterprises, or supported by legitimate civil initiatives. The fourth sector typically


starts flourishing in spaces far away from public policies, commercial revenues or the realm of the politically and ideologically meaningful, which is important for the third sector, as in the previous example of the Gastarbajteri exhibition. It seems obvious that in cities such as Belgrade, where the inhabitants can be only ‘users’ of the global flows, the local potential ‘creators’ will try to develop another logic of flow – peripheral flows through nodal places that they select and whose parameters they can try to dictate themselves. In the case of Belgrade, these nodes are the centres of ‘gastarbeiter’ culture, of the Serbian and Bosnian Diaspora in Europe. Following Castells’s claim that ‘in a world of global flows of wealth, power and images, the search for identity, collective or individual, ascribed or constructed, becomes the fundamental source of social meaning’ (Castells, 1996–97, vol. I: 3), we consider our two examples as opposite extremes of this ‘search’; on the one hand, Miroslav Mandić as an example of the search of one’s own (individual) identity, and on the other hand the phenomena of new folk music as an example of the search of collective, national identity. Belgrade’s suburbs are the locus of music and art production and its everyday representation. The ‘Culture of Ibar Magistral Road’16 had been developed and extended with large support of Diaspora financing. It forms part of a self-organized cultural economy, outside of any public support and, after Milošević, even outside of the public spaces. The new folk music was seen as an ‘emanation’ and symbol of the Milošević regime, which financed it, and occupied public space entirely during that time. After political changes occurred, public broadcasters avoided new folk completely, and commercial ones kept only those singers whom they were promoting through their own music companies. Yet it is difficult to consider new folk music as part of the private economy, since the majority of transactions stay outside the financial – including tax – flows, and while all products should undergo the same conditions of marketing and distribution in the market economy now proclaimed by Serbia, this is not the case. The fourth sector in Belgrade could therefore be considered as a part of the grey economy (if profitable, as for the folk music business), or as politically dangerous (if in search for national roots). In the majority of cases, however, it can be described as a form of social practices in everyday life, which are not and should not be controlled by anyone but the community. However, the sector could easily be directed towards nationalism and hatred, similar to ‘football fan scenes’, and in spite of recent attempts at control through the creation of associations and


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the delegation of responsibilities, this field is always formed by a rather chaotic group of young rebels who are easy victims of nationalistic manipulation. To understand the emergence of fourth-sector practice in Belgrade, the particular historic context of cultural activity in Serbia needs be considered, in particular its 50 years of self-controlled festivities outside of institutional control. Music produced for various events usually emerged outside of local ‘majors’, and outside of public media (Radio Sabac as an exception). Different from Vienna, in Belgrade all these festivities have become part of self-organized networks of family, friends and neighbours, with specific networks of restaurants or entrepreneurs (agents) who would rent tents and help in organizing the music and the singers. The appearance of star artists at modest celebrations today is therefore rather an indication of the relevance of such events for further ‘networking’ than for economic power. It is, furthermore, proof of the vital links between those stars and their audiences, which go beyond professional relations (fees paid vary considerably from occasion to occasion). A whole range of stars of such ‘south wind’ music do not appear in public media, but have become icons beyond their actual listenership through fairs, restaurants and word of mouth.17 In Belgrade, fourth-sector practices may be seen as independently organized practices that carry meaning in a community, thus constituting a sense of shared values and common identity, while not forming part of any organized, registered third-sector group (association of citizens, foundations and so on), nor being supported by the interest of the public sector. As such they are characteristic of people who are excluded from the first and third sector,18 and who do not have much opportunity to participate in the consumer culture offered by the second sector, therefore having to find a way of self-organization, an analysis which also holds true for Vienna. This can take on the form of entrepreneurial practices (in the grey economy) or survival practices, especially among the refugee population, but also among all social layers throughout the 1990s. Trendsetters in this sphere are therefore not big international companies, but small ‘garage’ activities that became big business or fashionable ‘places’ for ‘outings’ or gatherings. Civil society links are also present in the fourth sector. Overall, this sector consists of a polyphony of practices which lead to new flows, interconnections and intra-urban dynamics, but also to continuous social segmentation. Under the influence of globalization, fourth-sector practices in Belgrade have also undergone a process of commodification. However much creativity goes into the search for and adaptation of old objects


of Serbian peasant culture in new forms (hats, for example), the main objective is enjoyment of one’s ‘own’. At the same time, the created parties have to be ‘different’, individualized, albeit still according to patterns, particularly a new hybrid pattern that developed since the first Fiat 750 and refrigerators have entered households. Not only parties take on new formats, but also other activities such as playing or watching sports and even shopping. ‘Apartment shopping’ of stolen or smuggled brands has become more of a social event than a need, and has been described by some as a way of protest against the international community that prevents ‘us’ amongst others from travelling and importing legally. These examples show that the fourth sector is not restricted to the cultural field. The shifting of responsibility for self-organization to the individual, family or friends, whether for collective private viewings of movies, parties or even just watching TV (intellectuals inviting collective viewings of a political talk show, for example) or shopping, is even more important for migrants in Belgrade, to foster their feeling of identity with a city that has almost invisible social spaces.19 The main challenge citizens of Belgrade have to address consists therefore in creating a daily routine using various flows – being subversive towards regular offers, but taking part, being open towards mass-mediated culture but renaming and appropriating it in ‘our’ culture, using some elements of what was popular in the ‘old region’, while avoiding showing openly one’s sense of nostalgia and lack of belonging to the city. The need to identify as a Belgrader – to re-create a specific lifestyle, even to prevent oneself from going somewhere where the majority are going to be ‘newcomers’ (including also suburban people) – points to the importance of the city as a reference point. Yet another element appears more specific to Belgrade, which could be read as a search for ‘lost identity’. To be part of a group but remain ‘different’, to be Serbian but never to wear national costume, to be Belgrader but never to appear in the pedestrian street, to be cosmopolitan but with cynicism towards the West, and slight arrogance towards the present and former East, to produce one’s own events – relying on what is created around, on norms which have never been debated. In Serbia, fourth-sector practices provide a popular resource both for media advertising (for example for beer and soft drinks) and in particular for a TV serial titled ‘Mile against Transition’ which describes the fight of the fourth sector against changes brought about by the transition: from new rules such as the compulsory safety belts in cars to new working hours, shopping malls, banks and credit cards amongst others. Lonely


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individuals supported by basically everybody in the city, they also fight to keep and re-appropriate former festivities (1 May, 29 November and so on), the customs and traditions of the ‘liberties of the small man’. In this sense, the principal figure Mile20 is the real personification of the Belgrade variant of a fourth-sector actor.

Some conclusions for cultural policy development Based on the examples of Belgrade and Vienna, the following observations can be made on the significance of transformed third and emerging fourth-sector agency in the cultural field, which has not received enough attention so far in the study of cultural policy at the city level. In both cities, it is not only nor even predominantly the public – or first – sector that exerts most influence on the cultural activities of the city’s residents. Neither is it the private, commercial – or second – sector that has completely taken over the formerly leading role of the state in shaping the available cultural offer and demands. We have argued, that, firstly, the third sector has increasingly taken over state responsibilities that were left ignored by the market, such as the catering for social minorities, including migrant populations. Secondly, following the growing commissioning of third-sector agencies by the state, the third sector began to lose in some way the subversive and critical stance towards state and market, which corresponded to its original self-understanding and position. In this situation, two parallel developments have taken place, which we have illustrated with examples from Vienna and Belgrade. On the one hand, some third-sector agencies have managed to undergo the necessary transformation to safeguard their critical voice towards the state and the market, while entering into transient alliances with them in the fulfilment of their transnationally organized cultural activity. They are hence emancipating themselves from the role of a socially competent servant to the state to an actor that engages in the shaping of concrete cultural policy results. With regard to migrant cultural producers, this development was effectuated in particular by an ethnicizing cultural policy perspective that views the cultural production of migrants as documents of their ‘cultural difference’ in an anthropological sense. As documented in the Vienna-based example of the Gastarbajteri project, a third-sector agency tried to challenge this approach by replacing the expectable ‘representation of minority cultures’ through their ‘counter-narrative from below’ in a cultural format (an exhibition) and space (a museum).


On the other hand, new actors have emerged who have started to engage in self-organized cultural activity, remote from both the circuit of the market and the realm of public policy, but also from the realm of traditional third-sector activity. Heavily reliant on personal networks and nodes of information and migration, these activities have become a central force in the shaping of cultural activity, increasingly recognized even in the media, as the Belgrade programme ‘Mile against Tradition’ illustrates. The key elements of fourth-sector practice are: resistance to hegemonic cultural, political and/or economic practice; transitoriness (project character); and belonging to certain flows like informal, transnational networks – more fluid than organized in its nodal structure. The fourth sector has its own life, with its own sets of values, criteria of enjoyment and pleasure. It can carry subcultural elements, yet it lacks a conspicuous style or any direct political engagement. Its resistance is linked to the search for a ‘lost identity’ (as in the case of Belgrade’s new folk music) rather than to the search for a new identity (as in some musical subcultures), and to a commitment to non-commercial cultural exchange (as in the case of the Vienna-based radio station EMAP) rather than an anti-capitalist manifestation. The subversive potential of fourthsector practice might therefore be less obvious. Both developments highlight the necessity to look beyond the realm of the state or the market when trying to grasp how cultural practices are organized and which influences they undergo at the level of cities, understood as networks of people and institutions at a particular time in a particular place.

Notes 1 This definition was taken from the Third Sector European Policy (TSEP) network website http://www.lse.ac.uk/collections/TSEP/faqs.htm. 2 Between 1990 and 1999 the Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project created an international database on the third sector, based on research in more than 20 countries worldwide (Priller and Zimmer, 2001). 3 The state, facing problems because of the repression after the ‘Croatian spring’ in 1971 and the Serbian liberal movement in 1972–73, wanted to open a certain space for ‘freedom of expression’, because it had to show proof of the success of self-governing system in all fields, especially within the arts and culture. This space was of course ideologically controlled, since a great number of artists had entered the Communist Party (renamed Communist Union, to show that it is beyond the party system), and the government could count on acting through them – through their self-censorship – to prevent an ideologically unsuitable event. 4 The buildings of social organizations, youth houses, student cultural centres.


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5 In one part of the town people had celebrated the departure of the troops towards Vukovar, on the other people kept wearing black ‘ties’ for Sarajevo, or ‘yellow stars’ against the national, ethnic discrimination. 6 In Veljkovic’s Pavilion, the masters of the theatre discussed the purpose of the theatre in times of mass protests, probing into the moral attitude – should one go on acting or not. Every single programme in The Rex centre, from comics to rock, sales of fanzine to opera, was essentially a political debate on the current reality. 7 Such a right was finally introduced in Vienna in 2003, but successfully fought by the conservative and right-wing parties in 2004, before it could be practised for the first time. 8 In other countries, for example as ‘community radio’ stations. 9 See http://www.equal-artworks.at/ 10 Most notable examples are the organizations ‘Gettoattack’ and ‘Wiener Wahlpartie’, which both consisted of alliances of minority activists, artists, cultural practitioners and intellectuals. 11 Blue being the colour of the right-wing ‘Freedom Party’, black the colour of the Conservative Party. 12 The ‘third cultural sector’ was even defined as a ‘battle term that positions political art, culture and media initiatives against the neo-liberal instrumentalisation as an object of economy as well as against the transgressions of a more or less (kulturkämpferisch) acting state’ (Raunig, 2000b: 25, our translation). In Belgrade, this was absolutely proven by the artistic-political actions of civil society, which went under the common name of ‘alternative arts’. 13 Examples are the publishers’ ‘Blok 45’ (the name refers to one New Belgrade neighbourhood) which publishes and distributes books for free (The Society of Spectacle of Guy Debord); The ‘Family of Clear Water’ which makes theatre performances on the mountain Rudnik, occasionally in Belgrade; the group ‘Green Peas’ who performed Munch’s Scream in one minute in one day throughout Serbia; the raft houses on Sava river whose owners often organize non-announced events. 14 The title ‘Gastarbajteri’ refers to the Serbian/Croatian/ Bosnian adaptation of the term ‘Gastarbeiter’ [guest worker], which labour-migrants from then Yugoslavia were given by their non-migrating fellow country-men and – women. 15 The few exceptions to this general design indicated in fact where the museum curator had intervened into the overall design. 16 Ibar magistral road was, and still is, the highway in Serbia most famus because of its restaurants with live music (kafana). The syntagma known as ‘culture of Ibar magistral road’ explains the neofolk culture, a music style developed in the 1970s and 1980s using ethno-sounds with an oriental way of singing (called ‘south wind’ style), with electronic arrangements (synth). This music gave rise to a specific star system, outside of the main media till the 1990s, as well as a consumerist culture which in spite of following major European consumption trends. had a great deal of specificities. The amateurs performing this music, mostly coming from working class suburbs and the services sector, had formed a specific life-style and populist neo-folk culture which in the 1990s became turbo folk (media influence then gave visibility and social status to what used to be phenomena at the margins).

154 Despite and Beyond Cultural Policy 17 That is the case of Mica Trofrtaljka and her song ‘Guram guram’, which a majority of citizens know ‘second hand’. 18 The members of the associations or foundations in Belgrade are mostly coming from educated parts of society, not from minority groups or refugees. Associations do not tend to enlarge their memberships. Even when their aim is to raise public awareness or to fight for democratization, they are satisfied if they can reach the media and ‘important’ parts of society: intellectuals, students, artists etc. with their activity. 19 Two river islands can be taken as symbols of such spaces: Ada Medjica1 and Ratno Ostrvo. There the inhabitants are creating their little tree houses, rafts, camps, and do not let any business enter. When a festival (ECHO) had to be organized on a small part of the War island, a huge protest was organized under the pretext of ‘bird protection’. The audience was not coming as expected, the festival failed financially, and organizers left the country. 20 Mile is played by the actor Zoran Cvijanovic.

References Alexander, J.C. (1998) ‘Introduction, Civil Society I, II, III: Constructing an Empirical Concept from Normative Controversies and Historical Transformations’, in J.C. Alexander (ed.), Real Civil Societies. London: Sage. Bartolovich, C. (2000) ‘Inventing London’, in M. Hill and W. Montag op. cit. Bahmueller, C. (1999) ‘Civil Society and Democracy Reconsidered’, in Civil Society in the Countries in Transition, Comparative Analysis and Practices. Subotica: ALD. Bauerkämper, A. (2003) ‘Einleitung: Die Praxis der Zivilgesellschaft. Akteure und ihr Handeln in historisch- sozialwissenschaftlicher Perspektive’, in A. Bauerkämper (ed.), Die Praxis der Zivilgesellschaft. Akteure und ihr Handeln in historisch-sozialwissenschaftlicher Perspektive. Frankfurt, New York: Campus. ¨ Bose, M. (2004) ‘Creative Industries Training and Urban Regeneration – Domestication versus Empowerment’, in FOKUS/WIWIPOL (ed.), ‘Creative Industries. A Measure for Urban Development?’ Reader, Vienna, http://www.fokus.or.at/reader.pdf (accessed on 23 June 2005). ¨ Bose, M. (2005) ‘ “Ich entscheide mich dafür, MigrantInnen zu sagen.” Zur Vermittlung von “Gegenerzählungen” und Repräsentationspolitik in der Ausstellung gastarbajteri – 40 Jahre Arbeitsmigration’, in N. Sternfeld, B. Jaschke and C. Martinz-Turek (eds), Wer spricht? Autorität und Autorschaft in Ausstellungen. Vienna: Turia & Kant. Bratić, L. (ed.) (2002a) Landschaften der Tat. Vermessung, Transformationen und ¨ Ambivalenzen des Antirassismus in Europa. St Polten: Sozaktiv. ¨ Bratić, L. (2002b) ‘Rassismus und migrantischer Antrassismus in Osterreich’, in L. Bratić (ed.), op. cit. Brooker, P. (ed.) (1992) ‘Introduction’, Modernism/Postmodernism. London, New York: Longman. Buden, B. (2000) ‘Wachtturm Zivilgesellschaft? Politisierung der Kultur vs. Kulturalisierung der Politik’, in G. Raunig (ed.), op. cit. ¨ Busch, B. and Bose, M. (2005) ‘Stil als Ressource, Stil als Ware: “Gastarbajteri” oder Die Ironisierung nationaler Identitäten’, in GAL-Tagungsband. Frankfurt a. Main: Peter Lang, forthcoming.


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Castells, M. (1996–97) The information Age: Economy, Society and Culture. vol. I: The Rise of the Network Society; Volume II The Power of Identity. Oxford: Blackwell publishers. Chandhoke, N. (1995) State and Civil Society. Explorations in Political Theory. New Delhi/London: Sage. ´ Curgus, V.K. (2001) Ten years against, Serbian citizens in fight for democracy and open society, 1991–2001. Belgrade: Media Center (in English). Dragicevic Sesic, Milena (1998) ‘Multicultural Iconography of Civil Protest in Belgrade 1996–97 – The Xenophobia of the Authorities Ridiculed’, in Jaksic, Bozidar (ed.), Interculturality versus Racism and Xenophobia. Forum for Ethnic Relations: Belgrade. Dragicevic Sesic, M. (2001) ‘Carnivalization of protest’, New Theatre Quarterly. Cambridge, no. 65. Ellmeier, A., Baumgartner, G. and Perchinig, B. (2000) ‘Cultural Policy and ¨ Cultural Diversity, Report: Austria’, prepared by Osterreichische Kulturdokumentation, for Council of Europe Study. Council of Europe: Strasbourg. Frantz, C. and Zimmer, A. (eds) (2002) Zivilgesellschaft international. Alte und neue NGOs. Opladen: Leske & Budrich. Habermas, J. (1992) Faktizität und Geltung. Beiträge zur Diskurstheorie des Rechts und des demokratischen Rechtsstaats. Frankfurt a. Main: Suhrkamp. Hardt, M. (2000) ‘The Withering of Civil Society’, in M. Hill and W. Montag (eds), Masses, Classes and the Public Sphere. London, New York: Verso. Hill, M. and Montag, W. (2000) ‘Introduction. What Was, What Is, the Public Sphere? Post-Cold War Reflections’, in M. Hill and W. Montag (eds), op. cit. Kendall, J. and Anheier, H.K. (1999) ‘The Third Sector and the European Union Policy process: An Initial Evaluation’, Journal of European Public Policy, vol. 6 no. 2: 283–307. Ministère de la Communauté française (2002) Culture et citoyennêté (pour un développement culturel durable). Wallonie-Bruxelles: Ministère de la Communauté française. NKZ (Neue Kronenzeitung) ‘Und Menschen sind gekommen’, published in 22. 01. 2004, Vienna. Priller, E. and Zimmer, A. (2001) ‘Wohin geht der Dritte Sektor? Eine Einführung’, in P. Eckhard and A. Zimmer (eds), Der dritte Sektor international: mehr Markt – weniger Staat? Berlin: Edition Sigma. Raunig, G. (2000a) ‘sektor3/ kultur: Widerstand, Kulturarbeit, Zivilgesellschaft’. ¨ Wien: IG Kultur Osterreich. Raunig, G. (2000b) ‘Repression: Intensity increasing. Zwischen schleichender Repression und offenem Kulturkampf’, in G. Raunig (ed.), op. cit. Reisch, R. (2001) ‘Ausbildung, Beschäftigung, Qualifizierung; Wphlfahrtsverbände und Dritter Sektor oder der Weg vom Projekt zum sozialen Dienstleistungsunternehmen’, in P. Eckhard and A. Zimmer (eds), op. cit.: 229–49. Rollig, S. and Sturm, E. (eds), (2002) Dürfen die das? Kunst als sozialer Raum. Vienna: Turia & Kant. Rucht, D. (2003) ‘Zivilgesellschaftliche Akteure und transnationale Politik’, in A. Bauernkämper (ed.), op. cit.: 371–90. Schwendtner, R. (2000a) ‘Die Zivilgesellschaft ist mehrheitlich arm’, in G. Raunig (ed.), op. cit.

156 Despite and Beyond Cultural Policy ´ Skenderović Cuk, Nadia and Podunavac, Milan (eds) (1999) Civil society in countries in transition. Subotica: ALD, pp. 527–40 (in English). Wiener Integrationsfonds. (2001) MigrantInnen in Wien 2000. Daten&Fakten&Recht, Report 2000, Teil II. Vienna: Integrationsfonds. Zimmer, A. (2002) ‘NGOs als Akteure einer internationalen Zivilgesellschaft’, in C. Frantz and A. Zimmer (eds), op. cit.

8 Urban Cultural Policy and Immigrants in Rome: Multiculturalism or Simply ‘Paternalism’? Ankica Kosic and Anna Triandafyllidou

Introduction By 1980, Italy, just like other countries in Southern Europe, had begun its gradual, almost unacknowledged transformation from being a country of emigration to one of immigration. As of 1 January 2004, immigrants constituted about 4.5 per cent of the total population (Caritas and Migrantes, 2004: 97), many of them people fleeing from political instability and ethnic conflict in their countries, while others have mainly economic motivations. Nevertheless, Italy still lacks clear immigration and settlement policies. Current policies have given very little room for cultural integration of immigrants and their active participation in cultural life. While the rights of autochthonous cultural minorities have been fairly well safeguarded in Italy since the postwar period, and guaranteed by the Constitution (article 6), the issue of developing innovative policies aimed at the protection and promotion of cultural identities among the new immigrant minorities has not yet been seriously tackled at the national level. Before 1986, there was no comprehensive regulation regarding immigration, a lacuna that meant that the rules governing entry dated back to the fascist decrees of 18 June 1931 (n. 773) and 6 May 1940 (n. 635) and were concerned primarily with public order. The first comprehensive immigration law was introduced into Italian legislation in 1986 (943/1986), which regulated the entry of immigrants seeking employment, and provided an amnesty for immigrants who could prove such employment. A new law was prepared in 1989 (law n. 39/1990), formulated by Claudio Martelli, a Socialist leader who was then the deputy Prime 157

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Minister. This Law defined special provisions regarding immigration, including the annual planning of migratory flows, and some norms regarding the rights and obligations of foreigners in Italy, their stay and work conditions and other matters regarding family reunion, and social integration. It was in Law 40 of 1998 (the so-called Turco-Napolitano Law), issued by the former centre-left government, when the term ‘cultural integration’ of immigrants was introduced in public policy for the first time. Cultural integration has been defined in relation to instruction, employment, housing, health, Italian language teaching, the fight against discrimination and the recognition of migrants’ human rights. The law emphasizes that integration policies must grant to all foreigners the same conditions for accessing goods and services, and the possibility to live a respectable life. Article 36(3) refers to ‘intercultural education’ and article 40(1) states that the national state, regions and provinces, in collaboration with related third sector associations, will foster ‘knowledge and valorisation of cultural, recreational, social, economic, and religious expressions of the foreigners legally present in Italy’. This Law also supports the constitution of third-sector organizations (Italian and immigrant) active in promoting this kind of policy. After winning the national election in spring 2001, the centreright-wing coalition introduced a revised, more restrictive version of the immigration law. This new Immigration Law (Law 189 of 2002, known as the Bossi-Fini Law) mainly addresses border control rather than cultural integration. It clearly states that immigration to Italy is a temporary phenomenon guided by the dynamics of the labour market. Immigrants are thus seen as ‘guest workers’, without settlement rights, and rotation is encouraged. Hence cultural integration implicitly becomes a non-issue. Nevertheless, the new immigration law did not reform the cultural diversity provisions of the previous law (article 36(3) and article 40(1) mentioned above). Here we need to explain the use of the term ‘cultural integration’ of immigrants in political discourse, and more generally in the public debates in Italy. The most widely employed and preferred term is ‘multiculturalism’, which is used interchangeably with ‘cultural pluralism’ and ‘cultural diversity’. As a political ideal, multiculturalism means ‘equal opportunity accompanied by cultural diversity, in an atmosphere of mutual tolerance’. In institutional and political discourse, the meaning of ‘multiculturalism’, like that of ‘integration’, is often treated as self-evident. In academic literature, however, both are viewed with caution (Vertovec,

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1996). Multiculturalism in general refers to policies and initiatives seeking to incorporate the recognition of ethnic, cultural, linguistic and religious difference within the public area (Grillo, 2002). The question asked by Grillo and emphasized again in this study, is ‘what kind of “difference” has been recognized in Italy?’ As Grillo (2002) pointed out, in Italy the response to immigration has involved three overlapping agendas: a ‘control agenda’; a ‘social agenda’; and a ‘difference agenda’. The meaning of the first is self-evident. The second encompasses a wide range of social questions concerning health, social security, education and training, protection from discrimination, and so on; all these aspects are covered by the Ministry and Departments of Social Affairs. The third refers to civic and social provisions arising from the recognition of cultural, linguistic, religious and ethnic differences. This chapter examines how the local government in the city of Rome and the related public institutions formulate their policies concerning the cultural integration of immigrants and the promotion of a multicultural agenda. Our focus is on the themes of widening and diversifying access to culture, with particular reference to publics and artists of immigrant origin. It is our intention to look at whether local cultural policies encourage creative inputs among immigrants and contribute to the diffusion of their culture in Rome. The first perspective is the ‘top-down approach’. Here the institutional framework of the society of settlement is taken as a starting point, and the question is how far that framework is open for participation by immigrants. In this approach, the terms of inclusion/exclusion and ‘opportunity structure’ are key concepts in analysing the relative openness or closure of the existing system. The second is the ‘bottom-up approach’. Here the central focus is on the initiatives taken by immigrants and their organizations to stand up for their social and cultural interests. The basic concept used here is mobilization. The analytical distinction between top-down and bottom-up and the related processes of inclusion/exclusion and mobilization are used to examine the possible mismatch and the interaction between the two. This study is based on the analysis of various official documents, that is deliberative acts and municipal reports, and of in-depth interviews with the main actors taking part in the design and day-to-day implementation of urban cultural policy in the city of Rome. The chapter offers (a) an overview of the history of immigration to the city of Rome and the main population flows; (b) an analysis of urban cultural policy and implementation strategies of the public sector used for promoting a multicultural agenda and cultural diversity (top-down perspective); (c) an analysis of cultural diversity in urban


strategies of the non-public sector (third sector) (bottom-up approach); and (d) an overview of the cultural initiatives undertaken by some immigrant communities living in Rome and their organizations, to stand up for their social and cultural interests (bottom-up approach). In the concluding section, we assess whether cultural policy towards immigrants in Rome is better understood through the concept of multiculturalism and cultural diversity, or whether the notion of paternalism is more relevant in analysing the relationship between public institutions, the third sector, natives and immigrant artists.

Immigration in Rome Rome as the national capital has the highest number of immigrants among all Italian cities. At the end of 2002, approximately 200,000 legal immigrants were registered at the Municipality of Rome (Caritas 2003: 127), which is about 10 per cent of the total number of 2,546,804 inhabitants (Census, 2001). Citizens of non-EU countries mostly come from North Africa (especially Morocco and Tunisia), sub-Saharan Africa (Senegal and Nigeria in particular), Latin America (mainly Ecuador and Brazil), Asia (China and Philippines) and, more recently from Central and Eastern European countries. Rome, and Italy in general, are one of the best examples of ‘polycentric’ migration. There is a population originating from a large number of sending countries, many of which are very distant and have never had special economic or cultural relationships with Italy. This has given birth to a mosaic of ethnicities, languages, cultures, social traditions and religions. Moreover, Italy had a rather short colonial experience, and hence migration was not generally affected by colonial cultural or economic links. In the metropolitan area of Rome, migrants find jobs in the informal labour market – working as housecleaners and care providers for Italian families, taking up jobs which have the toughest conditions as regards physical effort, overtime work and night shifts (for example in the building industry, and also in catering services). Furthermore, they hold a variety of jobs in low-skill services, such as dishwashers, waiters, petrol-pump operators, porters and street sellers. For most of them, Rome represents a transit area. They usually plan to move to the northern regions to look for better employment opportunities. Attached to this more traditional form of migration, one has to add the more modern movements linked to international trade, study and lifestyle. There are differences in the demographic composition of the immigrant population. Generally speaking, there are small numbers of


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immigrant families in Rome and Italy, and also few – albeit rapidly growing – second and third-generation immigrants. This study focuses on the cultural life of two among the most numerous immigrant communities in Rome: people of Maghreb origin (Morocco and Tunisia in particular), and people from Senegal. These communities are chosen because of the nexus design of the research project within which this study has developed (see Meinhof and Triandafyllidou, introduction to this volume). This design aimed at investigating transnational flows and interconnections between the cities of Rome, Paris and London, characterized as ‘the African nexus’. The immigrant communities mentioned above figured as being numerous in all the three cities studied. Migration patterns from Africa to Europe still bear the traces of former colonial and linguistic relations, although this effect is declining, particularly due to the stricter border controls in France as an immigration country. It is mentioned in the literature (Carpo et al., 2003) that many Maghreb and Senegalese immigrants entered Italy by crossing French borders, thanks to the Schengen agreement, after having obtained a visa for entering France for tourism or study reasons. Furthermore, many immigrants from North and sub-Saharan Africa came to Italy directly from their countries of origin because it was a destination of easy access, planning after a ‘transitory’ period to move on to other Western countries. But, the stricter policies in other immigration countries ‘locked them out’, and they settled down in Italy (Schoorl et al., 1996). Migrants from Morocco and Tunisia are primarily young people, who in their vast majority enter Italy for work purposes, although some migrate for family reunification. In Italy, Moroccans are the immigrant group that has availed itself most of the possibility of family reunification offered by immigration law. The same is true even if in lesser proportions, for the Tunisian community. Moroccans and Tunisians continue to maintain strong ties with their countries of origin, but they are not oriented towards an ultimate return there. Rather, they are more oriented toward a more stable settlement in Italy. Senegalese migration to Italy started at the beginning of the 1980s with flows coming from France in the first instance and later directly from Senegal. Their main destinations are the islands (Sicily, in particular) and Rome (Riccio, 2002). Most Senegalese immigrants in Italy are men. What distinguishes them from the Moroccan and Tunisian communities is a very low percentage of family reunification. Those who are married, leave wives and children in Senegal. Most of them practice strategies of non-sedentary settlement in Italy, working for a period in Italy and returning in their region of origin at frequent intervals


(Riccio, 1999). Thus, they maintain strong ties with their country of origin, and aim to return eventually to Senegal. Most Senegalese immigrants in Italy belong to the Wolof community and to the Mouride Sufi brotherhood. In the city of Rome, they are mostly employed in petty trade, notably as street vendors, which makes their earning a living rather uncertain. Natives tend to view street vending negatively. However, despite or perhaps in response to such an attitude of exclusion, Senegalese immigrants have developed an ‘alternative’ model of inclusion in Italian society, based on intra-ethnic solidarity and mutual help. The internal solidarity that distinguishes Senegalese and the Mouride brotherhoods from, for example, Moroccans and Tunisians takes various forms: hospitality towards new arrivals, a small starter loan, basic information and a minimum of ‘occupational training’ to start their own business. Frequent collections of money within the community also help them cope with various emergencies, to the point where they form a sort of informal welfare system, all within the Mouride community (Salem, 1981; Ebin, 1996; Riccio, 2000a). Overall, the large number and still increasing size of the immigrant population in Rome has made obvious the need to integrate them not only in the labour market but also in the social and cultural life of the capital city.

Urban cultural policy and the implementation of a cultural diversity agenda The Municipality of Rome is the main actor and sponsor of the largest part of cultural initiatives connected in one way or another to immigrants as audiences or artists or even as a cultural ‘subject’. The important role played by the municipality reflects the principle of decentralization in the administration of cultural policy, and in financing cultural institutions.1 Cultural integration policies directed to immigrants were one of the priority of Rutelli’s administration,2 which promoted a series of services and activities. The Centralized Special Immigration Office created in 1993 by the municipality of Rome has played here a central part. In 1995, the Immigration Office started its first three-year programme aiming at promoting and facilitating immigrant integration. Its tasks included promoting, planning and coordinating integration programmes for immigrants and refugees. The major areas of intervention were: accommodation and housing, professional training and access to employment, intercultural mediation, and social protection.


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In the period 1994–2001, the Department of Social Affairs (Assessorato alle politiche sociali) has been in charge of all issues regarding immigrant integration. This confirms the fact that Rome has treated the phenomenon of immigration more in terms of welfare than within a frame of cultural integration and participation in the cultural life of the city. Social and political actors that are active in the field of migration usually have devoted the largest part of their energies and funds to ‘assisting’ immigrants in fulfilling their primary needs. The Italian policy of integration adopts a ‘paternalistic’ perspective: immigrants are seen as socially weak subjects, financially and socially disadvantaged, and, as such, are marginalized as cultural actors. The major part of resources targeting immigrants are thus focused on emergency containment, which essentially meant assisting new arrivals with basic needs, such as providing lodging assistance and health services. In fact, for a long time the operative aspect of contact with immigrants was the sole responsibility of volunteer organizations which filled the gaps and shortfalls not covered by the City. During the same period, we register however the first participation of immigrant artists in high-profile cultural events, such as the ‘Estate Romana’ (Roman Summer) festival. Generally, shifts towards developing high-profile cultural initiatives and funding more ‘visible’ events started in the late 1970s and early 1980s by left-oriented local authorities in different cities, including Rome (Bianchini, 1991; Bloomfield, 1991). These initiatives had as their objective the ‘democratization’ of cultural life, and found their most successful form in cultural events organized mainly during the summer, involving festivals lasting several weeks and representing selected (national and international) programmes. Frequently, these initiatives were called effimere (ephemeral) by critics, alluding to rubbish art, spectacles of trivial nature which could threaten seriousness of art. These events were suspended for several years in 1980s, but since the second half of the 1990s, have become ‘permanent’ features of the cultural landscape in many Italian cities. In more recent years, high-profile events have been organized by urban policy-makers to support, beside the dimension of culture democratization, the aspect of ‘internationalization’ of culture, and to enhance the cosmopolitan image of cities. Events were and still are organized by different cultural organizations and associations, public and private. Municipal funds usually cover a smaller part of the costs – money made through ticket sales covers the larger part of the expenses. Italian cultural policy emphasizes the idea of public–private partnership and joint sponsorships, but in reality it is much easier to find


sponsors for high culture (for example opera and classical music concerts sponsored by banking institutions) than for this kind of events. The high-profile festivals and initiatives, such as the Estate Romana, have included in their programmes concerts of ‘world music’ (e.g., ‘Roma incontra il mondo’,3 and Fiesta). These are mostly organized by Italians with the aim to give a cosmopolitan image to the city and to develop awareness of cultural diversity in the capital city. Artists participating are foreigners who either live in Rome or other European cities/countries, or may be invited from the country of origin. In recent years, instead of inviting famous artists (for example an African artist living in Paris or London) to participate at these festivals, preference has been given to immigrant artists living in Rome/Italy, because of the reduced costs. This has, however, the effect of reducing cultural flows and exchange between Rome and other European and African cities. Furthermore, the promoters of these cultural initiatives testify to the fact that immigrant audiences are very limited in numbers. In their opinion, immigrants in Italy (Rome) are too busy to survive and make ends meet to spend time attending cultural events. The conception of immigrants as weak subjects is a prevailing one. It is true that they have tremendous difficulties getting or renewing their work and stay permits, and in finding work and accommodation. Our study shows that even if immigrants face harsh living and working conditions, they are still interested in cultural participation, especially in music events. There are also other events organized by Italian cultural institutions which are not characterized as high-profile festivals. These are above all focused on bringing internationally renowned artists on stage (the truly transnational environment), but seem to be essentially aimed at Italian audiences and towards a small number of immigrant-origin elites. Veltroni’s administration, since his election as Mayor of Rome in 2001, has shown substantial continuity in the cultural policies carried out by his predecessor Rutelli. Concerning the cultural aspect of immigrant integration some changes promised the beginning of a new phase. The Mayor appointed Franca Eckert Coen as Councillor for Multiethnic Affairs (Consigliera Delegata del Sindaco alle Politiche della Multietnicità) and set up the Office for Multiethnic Affairs.4 The Councillor’s task is to create opportunities for immigrants to express their cultures and to help them overcome the barriers between native and immigrant cultures, and engage with both in a form of cultural dialogical interaction. The related plan of action to achieve these objectives, drafted by the Councillor’s office, is entitled ‘Rome in the Future: an Integration pact – indications and opportunities for a sustainable multi-ethnicity’


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(Protocollo d’intesa ‘Il Patto d’integrazione: indicazioni e occasioni per una multietnicità sostenibile’) and constitutes an interpretive key for understanding the way multi-ethnic policies are conceived in the city of Rome. The policy of this Office is an attempt to consider immigrants not only as socially weak individuals but also as social and cultural agents, that contribute actively to the life of the city. This policy emphasizes that integration does not simply mean to host, or to assist, sustain, facilitate; it is something more, which necessarily includes the direct participation of immigrants in the cultural life. The main weakness of this project is that the Office for the Multi-ethnicity has very scarce resources and has thus managed to promote only a few initiatives. The Office of Multiethnicity has given priority to ‘multicultural’ practices, referring to the political, educational and religious domains, and only to a lesser extent (determined also by their limited budget) to the cultural domain. Thanks to this office, a step forward has been made concerning the participation of immigrants in local political life.5 Another project promoted by the Office of Multiethnicity was named ‘Rome, City of Peace’. It was based on a series of meetings taking place at the City Hall, each of them addressing topics related to religious diversity and inter-religious education, in relation to the drafting of the Bill on Religious Freedom. Few representatives of immigrants participated in these meetings, but the celebrations on the occasion of the ‘Chinese New Year’, ‘The Birth of the Bahai’, ‘The End of Ramadan’, ‘The New Year and the Sacred Book of the Sikh’ gathered wide participation of Italians and immigrants. Furthermore, this Office has promoted several initiatives for dialogue with the various communities under the auspices of the programme ‘Welcoming culture, the culture of the welcome’ (L’accoglienza della cultura, la cultura dell’accoglienza) inaugurated in 2001. This programme aimed at promoting the public visibility of immigrant populations. Among the events organized we note a series of cultural performances (for example poetry, musical instruments, food and so on) organized by immigrant communities in a museum. These events attracted a large Italian audience but very few immigrants. Thus, despite the good intentions of this Office to promote a notion of multiculturalism without paternalistic assumptions and to give more visibility to immigrant cultures, little has been achieved by way of immigrant direct participation in the city’s cultural life. Immigrants still play a marginal part in the setup and realisation of cultural integration programmes in the city of Rome. Besides the above-mentioned high-profile festivals and initiatives promoted by the Office of Multiethnicity, there are few attempts of


local government to promote cultural diversity in the city of Rome. Urban ‘cultural’ policies, when immigrants are concerned, are focused mainly on language learning and vocational training as the means of immigrant integration into the labour market. Artistic participation is not a political priority and is not seen as a primary concern for equal immigrant participation in the society. There are few attempts at integrating immigrant cultural production into the work of mainstream cultural institutions such as museums, galleries, concert halls and theatres. These institutions may invite international artists (some of them living in the countries of origin of immigrants or in other European cities), but cultural events of this genre include very few immigrants among the audience. The few foreigners that attend belong to a small immigrant-origin elite. This confirms a strong ‘class’ element in the cultural inclusion of immigrants in Rome, and the fact that the division between high cultural and ‘low’ socio-cultural domains is even more pronounced when immigrants are considered. This finding corresponds to the division mentioned by Kiwan and Kosnick in their chapter (this volume) between ‘ethno-culture’ and ‘high-culture’ which characterises also the cities of Paris and Berlin. In conclusion, the local cultural policy targets special initiatives for the promotion of multiculturalism. However, the focus is more on promoting a cosmopolitan image of the city – educazione alla mondialità – or teaching about other cultures, religions, traditions or peoples than on promoting immigrant participation in cultural life. The selection of artists rarely involves a consultation with immigrant communities on their preferences or interests. The national political discourse and an interest to what Italian citizens like or need is the prevalent concern of urban cultural policy. Little has been done to foster cultural integration and the active participation of immigrants in cultural policy planning and implementation. Immigrant integration policies are mainly conceived in terms of welfare services. Cultural policy and initiatives are simply ‘paternalistic’, despite the emphasis on the notion of cultural diversity and multiculturalism.

Cultural diversity and the urban strategies of the third sector A number of different social agents are active in the field of promoting immigrants’ participation in the cultural life alongside local government institutions and public agencies. A realistic analysis of whether and how local cultural institutions in Rome encourage creative inputs among immigrants must take into account the complex web of relations between public and private actors.


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A large number of NGOs and cultural associations are committed to the realisation of a multicultural society based on a fuller integration of immigrants in Italian society. The emergence of the new urban social movements in the late 1980s – feminism, environmentalism, racial rights protection – had close links with left-wing activists and an ‘alternative’ cultural sector encompassing free radio stations, radical newspapers, experimental music groups (Bianchini, 1991; Martino and Poli, 1991). Several social centres (Centri sociali) created in these years managed to ‘survive’ until now, such as Vilaggio Globale (Global Village) and have organized concerts, art exhibitions, film shows and various workshops promoting alternative cultures, including those of immigrant communities present in Rome. Such cultural initiatives may attract large audiences among Italians mainly of left-wing political orientation. The fields of activity of the cultural associations (Italian and immigrant) include cultural promotion and dissemination of cultural practices, the fight against social exclusion and practices of solidarity and community relations. Many of them have given a large space to the direct participation of immigrant in cultural initiatives, such as: exhibitions, theatres, concerts, book publishing, drumming courses, dancing, and workshops of various kinds, with the aim of promoting dialogue, interaction and exchange with other cultures, emphasizing the value and richness of cultural difference and seeking to educate Italian citizens to life in a multicultural context. Immigrant associations are an essential reference point for immigrants in terms of social inclusion and active participation, being the place for aggregating, meeting and exchanging contacts between immigrants and also the larger social context. More than 200 names of associations appeared in a list of ethnic (immigrant) minority associations, compiled by the Province of Rome in 1996. This number, however, covers a very diverse reality, in terms of the size of the associations, their stated aims and their actual effectiveness in reaching their objectives. It is difficult to keep track of immigrant associations, which tend to mushroom and then disappear. In practice, many cultural associations, especially immigrant, are characterized by their weakness and struggle to survive (Danese, 2001). Most of the difficulties which affect the carrying-out of activities have to do with structural problems (lack of funds, logistic support, information, space and suitable resources). Many cultural promoters compete for scarce funding from public resources, and it seems that a small group of associations have succeeded in monopolizing access to


consultative bodies and funding. Moreover, the situation is affected by the system called collateralismo, in which associations are tightly linked to political parties. Hence, their capability to raise funding is related to their party affiliation. On the other hand, Italian parties and their cultural branches strongly promote the politicization of culture. Even though immigrants are not entitled to vote, political parties are principal players in matters concerning migrant participation in Italian cultural life. Most immigrant associations develop, directly or indirectly, either via associations linked to a certain party or trade union, or in their shadow (Danese, 2001). Immigrant associations have been traditionally linked to left-wing parties. This fact supports the view that left-wing parties have generally been more ‘concerned’ about the inclusion of immigrants in the cultural life of the receiving society than those of the right wing (Hellman, 1997), and have adopted populist policies of supporting principles of universalism (language of solidarity and inclusion). In the case of right-wing parties, these are usually divided between nationalists, who favour restrictive policies, and moderate conservatives who, on the contrary, favour policies of functional recruitment in response to the demands of the labour market. Immigrant association representatives that we interviewed in 2003 and early 2004 emphasized the fact that they search for interlocutors willing to collaborate with them, irrespective of their political colour, as a possible support for obtaining help and social visibility, but that they have had difficulties in taking contacts with right-wing forces and in been valorized by them. Immigrant artists and cultural promoters complain of obstacles encountered in trying to communicate with different Italian cultural institutions, and have pointed out that the only way to express their interests is through the intermediary of autochthonous associations. Without collaborating with Italian associations and centres, immigrant cultural actors hardly obtain any funding. This is either because of the lack of information about calls for proposals (bandi) or because of the highly bureaucratic procedure for applying and decision-making. All information on funding which they could compete for is written in a bureaucratic Italian jargon which is for the most part quite incomprehensible to immigrants (sometimes even to Italians too!). There have been several calls in the last years, but finding information on them is quite difficult for those who are outside the ‘network’. The Municipality of Rome has a webpage where all relevant information is published, but many immigrants do not have access to the Internet. According to our informants, such calls for proposals hide a clientelistic


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and personalized system of personal and political connections: you need to have ‘acquaintances’ to get things done. The relationship with the institutions therefore seems to remain the highest hurdle to overcome: it is not merely a question of knowing the institutional mechanisms and bodies but of knowing the channels for reaching those who work within the institutions. The gathering of information and the activation of contacts which are useful for obtaining funding remain the two basic elements. This system of personalized contacts reinforces the paternalistic attitude and structure of cultural policies. Practically, in most cultural initiatives involving immigrant artists, an Italian association and a single Italian promoter is in the front line. There is still a strong resistance to confer directly to immigrants a role of responsibility in organizational matters. In conclusion, the initiatives promoted by the third sector and by individuals are more ‘genuine’ than those promoted by the public sector, to the extent that they may involve artists that are not well-known, who struggle to survive doing all kinds of jobs, and people with insecure residence or work status. Few of them involve famous artists and the transnational environment. In relation to the creation of transnational connections between cultural actors, different cultural organizers reported the fact that Italian embassies in the Maghreb countries and Senegal have at times denied musicians entry visas to Italy in recent years, assuming that musicians who seek an entry visa aim at eventually settling in Italy, finding a job and abusing their visa. Our interviewees suggested that ‘knowing somebody at the Embassy or Ministry always helped to resolve this problem’. The third sector cultural organizations and initiatives promoted by them generally have low budgets and still have difficulties to survive because they do not manage to generate enough funds or income. Such initiatives are usually one-off, that is they are not repeated every year (as happens with public-sponsored activities). In general, there is also a lack of effective links between regional/urban policy and initiatives (formal policy level) and the underground world of artists and cultural events producers that engage in multicultural activities. The economic and organizational instability of immigrant associations, indirectly justifies the reluctance of local state institutions to rely on them as partners in policy planning and implementation. The bottom line is that also in the third sector, Italian management dominates the cultural scene in a ‘paternalistic’ way. Immigrant artists and communities collaborate, but more in the backstage; their participation is managed by others.


Immigrant participation in cultural initiatives Some immigrant communities organize cultural events on their own. These initiatives, still very limited in number, involve famous artists invited mostly from the immigrants country of origins, and are characterized by very limited participation of Italians in the audiences. Events of this kind demand from the immigrant community a high level of self-organization and availability of resources in terms of funding and venues. There is a large number of artists from Africa who have settled in Rome. Most of them were neither stars in their country, nor are they very famous in Rome. Their lack of success in their country of origin could be explained by the lack of contact with audience there, and the limited interest of native publics in the kind of music that these musicians produce in Italy. Their music is frequently a hybrid form, in the sense that many popular songs are adapted to Western audiences, and thus not always interesting to their community of origin. Some musicians have tried to work in other European cities prior to entering Italy, but report difficulties obtaining legal status there. Consequently they have migrated to Italy – in Italy they also have limited possibilities for obtaining legal migration status, but in their view it is easier to lead an undocumented life here than in other EU countries. Some of them managed to obtain a stay and work permit thanks to the last regularization programmes (1998 and 2002), by registering themselves under a different employment category (for example as waiters or housekeepers). In some cases, immigrant artists, unable to work as musicians and/or to find a sponsor, accept other jobs in order to earn money and survive.6 Others teach in percussion courses in schools or cultural associations, or perform in restaurants or night clubs. Working mostly in ethnic restaurants these musicians remain isolated and unknown to larger audiences. Immigrant artists who organize concerts and/or register CDs have difficulties in finding suitable places (theatres or cinemas for instance) and/or to find a production firm that is willing to collaborate with musicians like them, who are not already known in a wider public. If they manage to get an offer from a musical production firm from their country of origin, this is of little help as such firms have very limited distribution networks in Europe. Italian distribution houses and commercial centres have few CDs of ‘world music’, mainly of famous artists. Some immigrant musicians sell their CDs at ethnic restaurants or night clubs where they perform, albeit such sales are rather limited.


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Our study showed that African musicians in Rome have limited mobility and few connections with other European-based artists (for example in Paris or London). They generally find it difficult to survive because they do not manage to generate sufficient funds. Many of them move about on their own (without managers) and complain of the lack of funding and organizational support. Being without managers, it is not surprising that it is not easy for them to find information on events in other European cities, let alone on the possibility to participate in these events. In this regard, artists face exclusion. But, even those who have a manager still complain of the lack of contact with other cultural organizers in other European cities. In our fieldwork we noticed few immigrants in audiences at events organized by Italians, even when immigrant artists were performing. Several factors influence immigrant participation in cultural events: • Many immigrants in Rome live under precarious conditions, and they are too busy in surviving and making ends meet to spend time either producing or consuming culture. Their employment in poorly paid jobs intensifies their social exclusion. In their everyday struggle to survive and with few resources, the cultural dimension becomes relevant only if it offers opportunities of material earning. • Immigrants are poorly informed about cultural activities and programmes – information on cultural events is reported in a weekly guide which can be bought in all kiosks, but all representatives of the Maghreb community reported that immigrants from that community originate from rural areas and most of them have a very limited knowledge of Italian; many are nearly illiterate even in Arabic or Wolof.7 • There is a newspaper for Maghrebi readers, and two for immigrants from Senegal, published in Rome, which also give information on cultural events, but not on all. The problem is that these papers are published infrequently (weekly, fortnightly or monthly), and thus cannot manage to announce all cultural events available. Furthermore, they are not concentrated in particular on the Rome scene, but cover the whole of Italy.8 • Immigrants from Morocco and Tunisia mainly originate from rural areas and have a conception of cultural life based on family events (for example religious and wedding ceremonies) instead of participating in festivals and concerts. • Transportation is also a problem: immigrants in Rome are not concentrated in one area – there are some neighbourhoods with a large


presence of immigrant residents, but more in the outskirts of the city. Cultural events are mostly organized in the central areas and quite late in the evening. Most immigrants do not have a car, and public transportation especially late at night is ill-organized. • Many immigrants consider the music produced by the immigrant artists living in Rome/Italy as amateurish and are not interested in that. • They also have a limited interest in their performances, because these are often adapted to the expectations of Western audiences. • Many immigrants are without residence permits (clandestini or ‘undocumented’); their clandestine situation exacerbates their social exclusion. Specific immigrant groups rarely mobilize to organize a concert: informants report the lack of financial resources as the main obstacle. Embassies do not support these events either – usually, they organize cultural events only in proximity to important holidays. Not all communities form associations to further their cultural interests. For example, Moroccans, in spite of being the largest migrant group, have great difficulties in organizing a social network. They have two associations which try to promote some cultural activities. The Tunisian community is not much better organized. They have a cultural centre, promoted by the Embassy, that organizes a limited number of activities, among which is a course of Arabic language for secondgeneration children, and a computer course. Contrary to these groups, Senegalese immigrants have established a network of different associations, some of which are of a religious nature and others of a social cultural character. Several Senegalese associations aim to maintain the relations with the group and culture of origin, and to strengthen ethnic and religious identity. They aggregate in small groups for praying, singing spiritual songs at least once or twice during the week. These religious associations have a cultural and social significance. Senegalese cultural associations play the role of mediators between the host society and the immigrant community; they organize cultural activities, ranging from football matches between Senegalese and Italians to music concerts or festivals. These events mostly involve immigrant artists living in Italy, but also include a few transnational contacts with artists living in other European cities or in the country of origin. The existence of a large network of Senegalese immigrant associations may be attributed to their culture of origin, in particular to the


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dimension of individualism versus collectivism that describes the relationship between the individual and the group in a society. Individualism stands for a society in which the ties between individuals are loose: everyone is expected to look after himself or herself and his or her immediate family only. Collectivism on the other hand stands for a society in which people from birth onwards are integrated into strong cohesive ingroups, which throughout people’s lifetimes continue to protect them in exchange for unquestioning loyalty (Jetten, Postmes and McAullife, 2002). Senegalese culture appears to emphasize to a greater extent the concept of collectivism and solidarity within the community, than Moroccan or Tunisian traditions do. This encourages people to become involved in all kinds of associations, even if or perhaps precisely because they face tough living and working conditions and have few material means. Such associational activities generate social capital that is then an important resource for the development of cultural initiatives. Our fieldwork shows that many of these initiatives are promoted by Senegalese artists who live in Rome and are members of an ethnic Senegalese association. These local ‘leaders’ manage to mobilize other members. Initiatives of this kind are not ‘large-scale’ events, in the sense that not many Senegalese immigrants participate (usually, members of a certain association and their friends). Artists are more motivated to promote events which would also involve an Italian audience, and thus would generate some profit. Our research shows that Italian audiences in such events are restricted to people who had earlier become acquainted with the Senegalese culture (for example through a course of African dance, or having Senegalese friends). In conclusion, the bottom line of immigrant cultural participation is their socio-economic status. Our study reveals an important difference between two groups of immigrants, regardless of ethnicity and country of origin, that can be attributed to their different socio-economic position. One group, which represents immigrants with higher status and adequate economic means, participate in all cultural forms, including ‘high’-culture events. Moreover, they follow both Italian and satellite mass-media and adopt a critical perspective towards both. The other group with a significantly lower socio-economic profile faces difficulties in the process of cultural integration, due to factors such as a low level of education, limited language proficiency, and overall precarious living and working conditions. These immigrants rarely participate in cultural events, only doing so if these are promoted by their embassy – hence access to information is easier – and most importantly if the tickets are not expensive. This group of people tends to spend free time at home,


watching TV (usually satellite channels), or in the company of other co-nationals. Another important factor that influences the mobilization of immigrants and their cultural expression, and which needs to be taken into consideration in cultural policy formulation, is related to the rural vs urban origin of immigrants. As mentioned previously, the concept of participating in festivals and concerts is characteristic of urban cultures, whereas rural cultures are characterized by more popular and less organized ways of cultural expression. We can hypothesize that immigrants more easily accept forms of cultural expression that are more familiar to them, and are more resistant towards the newer forms. Last but not least, the second generation of immigrants in Italy is still too young to be actively involved in cultural life (most are children or adolescents). We may hypothesize that in a few years these young people will promote new and diverse cultural initiatives bringing the artistic environment in Rome closer to that of other capital European cities with a longer history in immigration (such as London, Paris or Berlin).

Conclusion The involvement of immigrants in local cultural life is a fundamental tool for breaking the sense of exclusion; it may foster a sense of integration to the country of settlement. Culture, and in particular music and other artistic forms of expression, may act as vehicles promoting cultural dialogue, inclusion and a vision of a multicultural society. This last can only be built through the mutual acceptance and respect for different cultures. But in Rome, the concept of inclusion tends to be related primarily to employment and related socio-economic factors. This study emphasizes that the process of immigrant integration into the society of settlement goes beyond welfare assistance and even political representation. It encompasses the right to express a cultural identity and contribute to the cultural life of the society of settlement. In this process, local authorities play an important role in encouraging and promoting the participation of immigrants alongside that of natives. Even though these views may be largely accepted by the local authorities in Rome, that city and Italy in general still lack a comprehensive social and cultural policy to deal with immigration (Danese, 2001). Hence an opportunity structure offered to immigrant artists, both those resident in Rome and those coming from abroad, is nearly non-existent. The very few opportunities offered to immigrant artists are mediated by Italian


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organizers and through personal or political contacts with local policymakers, politicians or event organizers. Thus, our top-down perspective reveals a rather bleak landscape where not only paternalist attitudes towards multiculturalism prevail, but also where there are few initiatives promoting the cultural integration of immigrants – as artists or as publics. Regardless of the political orientation of different local administrations, the issues of developing innovative policies aimed at the cultural integration of the immigrant minorities and of finding adequate vehicles through which an immigrant can participate in the cultural life of Rome (and Italy in general) have not yet been seriously tackled. One important way of circumventing this problem has been the formation of partnerships between natives and people of immigrant origin in the organization of cultural events and the production of cultural goods. Such collaborations have shown a common engagement into cultural expression and exchange. Nonetheless, such partnerships are usually characterized by a paternalistic power relation where the native is in a better position to negotiate with local authorities and the third sector, while immigrants remain relatively powerless, occupy secondary positions, nearly always dependent on Italian promoters. Moreover, their needs and tastes are often neglected to the advantage of the (presumed) needs and tastes of the larger Italian public attending world music and other multicultural events. Thus, the key to understanding the limited artistic exchanges and cultural interaction between immigrants and natives in Rome is immigrant mobilization. Such mobilization, however, has two important catalysts. One of them is the internal organization of an ethnic community; Senegalese even if poorer and less-integrated socially are more active culturally because of the stronger community ties that organize their lives at home (in Senegal) and in Rome. The second catalyst refers to personal contacts with natives, which translate into preferential access to initiatives or funds organized by the municipality or other state or semi-state agencies. The role of natives as mediators is of paramount importance not only because they also have personal and political contacts in the local administration, but also because they sort out the bureaucratic aspects of the organization of a cultural event. Immigrants are seen as socially weak subjects and, as such, are completely marginalized as cultural actors. Our study shows also a strong ‘class’ element in the cultural inclusion of immigrants in Rome. Cultural policy is characterized by a division between high cultural and ‘low’ socio-cultural domains. The former involve international artists, but include very few immigrants among the audience (in these events participate only immigrant-origin elites). The


latter are dominated by social goals such as the promotion of dialogue among cultures, the prevention and reduction of prejudice and discrimination against immigrants, and the promotion of a cosmopolitan image of Rome as a city. However, these initiatives are eventually aimed at Italian audiences and there is little concern for attracting the attention of immigrant publics. In conclusion, while multiculturalism (in Italian usually termed as ‘intercultura’ and ‘multietnicita’) is the buzzword and the presumed guiding principle of cultural policy in Rome, our analysis of the current situation reveals quite a different picture. The cultural participation of immigrant groups, either at the individual or at the group level, takes place only at the margins of the cultural life of the city and in any case reproduces well-known and established patterns of social and political relations in Italy, of personalized networks and ‘clientelistic’ connections between social and political actors. Notes 1 In general, the main cultural function retained by the state government (that is, the Ministry of Cultural Heritage, Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali) is heritage preservation. All other tasks involving the promotion of culture are under competences of regions, provinces and municipalities. 2 Francesco Rutelli, a leading figure in the centre-left-wing forces, was elected in 1993 as Mayor of Rome, and re-elected in 1997. 3 ‘Rome meets the world’. 4 The creation of the Office for Multiethnic Affairs gradually led to the dismantling of the Centralized Special Immigration Office and its local branches. 5 The proposal of extending the vote in local elections to permanent cardholders requires national legislation. It was proposed the first time in the 1998 draft law, then was removed, as the legal office of the Chamber of Deputies decided that it was unconstitutional. A proposal to revise the Constitution (Chamber Act 4167) was put forward in 2003 by Deputy Prime Minister Gianfranco Fini of the centre-left government. But this proposal has split the ruling centre-right coalition. 6 At present, neither Italian nor immigrant artists enjoy any special support scheme. The only existing provision, issued under fascist rule and subsequently modified in 1960, is the ‘2% for the arts’ law, establishing that 2% of the costs of any public building (with the exception of schools) should be allocated to the commissioning of a work of art by a living artist in order to decorate the building itself. Due to the questionable criteria adopted in the choice of eligible artists, the law remained – and still largely remains – inactive for many years. Although there are several artists’ associations and unions in Italy, they do not receive any governmental support. 7 Several informants of Moroccan origin emphasized the necessity of a policy focused on language learning and education as the means of integrating migrants.


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8 Some of them are supported by Italian publishing houses (e.g., ‘Nur’ was supported at the beginning by the ‘Porta Portese’ publisher), but mostly publishers survive through sponsors (for example, Western Union). Some newspapers printed in Italy are published weekly, fortnightly or monthly. Also the fact that the papers are mostly distributed free of charge suggests that immigrants are not viewed as a good consumer of cultural products available for sale.

References Bianchini, F., Torrigiani, M. and Cere, R. (1996) ‘Cultural Policy’, in D. Forgacs and R. Lumley (eds), Italian Cultural Studies: An Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press: 291–308. Caritas & Migrantes (2004) Immigrazione: Dossier Statistico. Rome: Anterem. Carpo, F., Cortese, O., Di Peri, R. and Magrin, G. (2003) ‘Immigrants and Political Participation: The Case of Italy. Research conducted in the framework of the project: SATCHEL – Research/action on citizenship education for old, new and future EU citizens’. Report downloadable from: http://www.retericerca.it/Satchel/documents/Rapporto%20finale%20Italia.pdf Cipriani, R. (1991) ‘Cultura come emarginalzione. Il ruolo della classe politica a Roma’, in R. Cipriani (ed.), La bottega dell’effimero: Politiche culturali e marginalità giovanile a Roma. Milan: Franco Angeli. Danese, G. (2001) ‘Participation Beyond Citizenship: Migrants’ Associations in Italy and Spain. Patterns of Prejudice’, Institute for Jewish Policy Research, 35: 69–89. Ebin, V. (1996) ‘Making Room versus Creating Space: The Construction of Spatial Categories by Itinerar Mouride Traders’, in B.D. Metcalf (ed.), Making Muslim Space in North America and Europe. Berkeley: University of California Press: 92–109. Freeman, G.P. (1995) ‘Modes of Immigration Politics in the Liberal Democratic States’, International Migration Review, XXXIX: 881–97. Grassilli, M. (2002) ‘Gabibbo and the Squatters: Who Speaks for Whom? Alternative and Official Representation of Immigration in Bologna’, in R. Grillo and J. Pratt (eds), The Politics of Recognizing Difference: Multiculturalism Italian-style. Aldershot: Ashgate: 115–37. Grillo, R. (2002) ‘Imigration and the Politics of Recognizing Difference in Italy’, in R. Grillo and J. Pratt (eds), op. cit.: 1–24. Hellman, J.A. (1997) ‘Immigrant “space” in Italy: When an Immigrant sending Country becomes an Immigrant Receiving Society’, Modern Italy, vol. 2 no. 1–2: 34–51. Jetten, J., Postmes, T. and McAullife, B.J. (2002) ‘We are all Individuals: Group Norms of Individualism and Collectivism, Levels of Identification and Identity Threat’, European Journal of Social Psychology, vol. 32: 189–207. Mahler, V. (1996) ‘Immigration and Social Identities’, in D. Forgacs and R. Lumley (eds), op. cit., pp. 160–77. Martino, C. and Poli, A.M. (1991) ‘I giovani tra istituzione ed associazionismo. Le politiche culturali “giovanili” ’, in R. Cipriani (ed.), op. cit. Salem, G. (1981) ‘De la Brousse Sénégalaise au Boul’ Mich: le Système Commercial Mouride en France’, Cahiers d’Etudes Africaines, pp. 81–3.

178 Urban Cultural Policy and Immigrants in Rome Scidà, G. (2002) ‘Come cambiano le relazioni sociali dei senegalesi in Italia’, in G. Pollini, and G. Scidà (eds), Sociologia delle migrazioni e della società multietnica. Milan: FrancoAngeli. Pratt, J. (2002) ‘Italy: Political Unity and Cultural Diversity’, in R. Grillo and J. Pratt (eds), op. cit., pp. 25–39. Riccio, B. (2000a) ‘Senegalese Transmigrants and the Construction of Immigration in Emilia-Romagna (Italy)’, PhD Thesis, University of Sussex. Riccio, B. (2000b) ‘Following the Senegalese Migratory Path Through Media Representation’, in R. King and N. Wood (eds), Media and Migration. London: Routledge. Riccio, B. (2002) ‘Toubab and Vu Cumprà. Italian Perceptions of Senegalese Transmigrants and the Senegalese Afro-Muslim Critique of Italian Society’, in R. Grillo and J. Pratt (eds), op. cit., pp. 177–96. Salih, R. (2000) ‘Transnational Lives, Plurinational Subjects: Identity, Migration and Difference Among Moroccan Women in Italy’, PhD Thesis, University of Sussex. Schoorl, J.J., de Brijn, B.J., Kuiper, E.J. and Heering, L. (1996) ‘North-South Migrations: recent trends and future perspectives’, Council of Europe, Mediterranean Conference on Population, Migrations and Development, Palma de Majorca, 15–17 October. Smith, A.D. and Guarnizo, L.E. (1998) Transnationalism from below. New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Zincone, G. (1994) Uno schermo contro il razismo. Rome: Donzelli. Vertovec, S. (1996) ‘Multicuturalism, Cultiralism, and Public Incorporation’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, 19: 49–69.

Part III Transnational and Transcultural Connections


9 Challenge of Migrants for a New Take on Europe Asu Aksoy

Introduction In current debates on EU enlargement and the criteria for membership, exclusionary sentiments are surfacing with great resonance and power. It is now commonplace to hear key political figures declaring that Europe’s borders must be based on shared values, culture and history. This same sentiment informs both national and EU-wide policies towards migrants and asylum-seekers. In this context, the migrant comes to be positioned as a contaminating figure, disturbing the shared culture and identity of the European collectivity (and collectivities). It is now a commonplace phenomenon that migrants are presented as the threat challenging the unity of Europe. Thus it is no longer surprising to hear anti-immigration commentary even from liberal circles. Recently, for instance, Polly Toynbee, a well-respected liberal journalist writing in The Guardian, was not apologetic about her assertion that ‘the defence of Europe’s borders is essential for a fair society’, that ‘we [in Europe] need a fortress’ (Toynbee, 2002). At the heart of the problem is the question of what Zygmunt Bauman calls ‘accumulated anxiety’, anxiety stemming from ‘widespread and complex sentiments of insecurity’. ‘The government’, says Bauman, cannot honestly promise its citizens secure existence and [a] certain future; but [it] may for a time being unload at least part of the accumulated anxiety (and even profit from it electorally) by demonstrating [its] energy and determination in the war against foreign job-seekers and other alien gate-crashers, the intruders into once clean and quiet, orderly and familiar, native backyards. (Bauman, 1998: 10) 181

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For Europe, the obsession about borders and frontiers is a displaced anxiety about the future of modern society as we know it. As Polly Toynbee (2002) puts it, ‘defending borders means defending society’. Historically, the nation-state constituted itself as a bounded container, maintaining the imagined coherence and integrity of the national culture and securing the continuation of modern society. As Charles Taylor argues, modern understanding of society ‘is that of individuals (rational, sociable agents who are meant to collaborate in peace to their mutual benefit) who come together to form a political entity against a certain preexisting moral background and with certain ends in view’ (Taylor, 2002: 93). And, the nation-state has been the institutional setup to ensure that the infrastructures are in place for the rights and obligations that individual have in regard to one another can be exercised and safeguarded, and that the common benefits – such as security, as Charles Taylor puts it – are pursued. However, as this function now becomes eroded, there is a crisis. As Zygmunt Bauman puts it, ‘[l]ess and less the governments can do to influence the course of events which affect directly the livelihood of their subjects. Order no more appears pre-ordained, self-evident, secure’ (Bauman, 1998: 5). Europe’s contemporary anxiety, its neurosis, then, is to do with what the erosion of national boundaries implies. As national containment structures are becoming ineffective partly to do with globalization and pluralization of cultural references over and beyond the sphere of influence of the nation-state, would the European integration process compensate for this loss by securing the formation of a European society? And if so, what would the European society mean? Would this entail the building of the new European community as a nation-state writ large, with frontiers serving the function of containing European ‘citizens’ around a shared collective identity and culture (the Fortress Europe option)? But, of course, the paradoxical situation is that the erosion of national boundaries and the social transformation that is underway is partly a result of the European integration project itself. ‘European integration’, says Gerard Delanty, is not creating an integrated political community, with a unified public space and common citizenry, with shared values, principles and aspirations. In fact, the very term integration is no longer applicable for a process that is bringing about a far-reaching social transformation. (Delanty, 2003: 486) There is a growing suspicion that the political and social forms that the European project is bringing into existence do not have much

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in common with what has been familiar of the nation-state way of arranging these things. Peter Kraus, for instance, questions the EU’s ‘compatibility with existing forms of democracy’. He points to the widespread concern that, ‘Europeanization is contributing to the erosion of efficiency and legitimacy of democratic rule by the nation-state’ and voices the scepticism that is around ‘about the possibility that the EU will become a democracy of its own kind and give birth to a system of transnational democratic governance, counterbalancing the loss of nation-state sovereignty’ (Kraus, 2003: 668). Change is in the air, Europe is in motion, and this inevitably is leading to what Zygmunt Bauman characterizes as Unsicherheit – ‘that complex combination of uncertainty, insecurity, and lack of safety’ (ibid.). Unsicherheit, says Bauman, ‘tends to be experienced as a total condition and to breed nervousness and frantic search of solutions often unrelated to the problems they are hoped to solve’ (ibid.). One strategy that has been developed and put into practice is to push the European integration process in the direction of cultural and social integration. ‘European integration’, says Delanty, ‘is no longer a matter of economic and political steering, but has penetrated into the social itself with a legal concept of European citizenship’ (Delanty, 2000: 110). Here, what we see is the attempt to withstand the relative weakening of nation-state structures by turning Europe into a big and powerful nation-state like structure. Behind the drive towards the creation of a common European culture and identity, we can discern what Delanty calls ‘the national subversion of Europe’. This mentality feeds on anxieties about migrations and mobilities and the new landscape of social transformation and diversity that arises out of these processes. We may say that this euro-logic seeks to eliminate complexity and seeks to institute sense of security by imagining a collective identity around the notion of Europeanness. Another strategy would be to study the societal transformation experienced in Europe and to acknowledge and work with the complexities that are being thrown up by new patterns of movement and mobility. The issue here is how we can begin to release ourselves from the old agendas, how we can distance ourselves from the dominant discourse – ‘national subversion’ – and find other, more productive, ways of thinking about European space and culture. Gerard Delanty proposes that, ‘[t]he question of Europe is now a central dimension of the wider societal transformation of modernity, the reflection on which is also a reflection on the meaning of Europe’ (Delanty, 2003: 472). We are challenged to find more creative strategies for confronting the border neurosis that now afflicts the European cultural imagination.


We have to look through a different lens, then. Through a different lens we might see the changing European social and cultural order in another way; we may see that the European space is once again complex and fluid. What shifting perspectives can reveal is the significance of new forms of movement and mobility, and of the new kinds of transnational connections and networks that are developing as a consequence. This perspective may help us to recover a sense of Europe that connects into its pre-national past, ‘when’, as Bernard-Henri Lévy (2003) said, ‘borders meant less, when places had different meanings’. We may become aware of Europe as a space of great cultural diversity, and more open to recognizing the potential that this diversity offers. It becomes possible to envision other scenarios for the European future, ones that are responsive to the new transcultural developments. Through this exercise, we may, hopefully, begin to release our thinking and our imaginations from nation-centred conceptualizations about Europe. So where do we look for new frames of thinking? What kinds of alternative vocabularies and approaches might help us understand the social transformation that is underway in Europe? Perhaps it is only through addressing the very processes that feed European anxieties that we may find the possibilities of creative transformation? From this point of view, one of the questions would be how to build migrant presences into a more positive scenario for European futures. What I intend to do in this chapter is to capture some of the interesting clues to understanding the nature of the social transformation that is underway in Europe by looking at the experience of migrants. This experience, I argue, tells a rather different and admittedly an uncomfortable story for the ‘Westphalians’ as Peter Kraus characterizes them (Kraus, 2003: 668). Migrants are engaged in transnational networking and transcultural negotiation, and this experience is giving rise to new forms of sociality that go beyond the confines of conventional community discourse. Migrants are living and thinking transnationally, combining multiple loyalties and identities in their lives. Europe is crisscrossed by multiple, overlapping and distinct social and cultural spaces that go beyond the confines of the national spaces. These are transnational social fields where social and cultural networking takes place across national boundaries. This focus on migrant experience tells us about the proliferating transnational social and cultural practices, about the implications of mobility across different cultural registers, and the emerging new forms of sociality. Europe, in this post-national account, is seen from a new light: as a transnational space where new forms of sociality, political participation, identification are coming into

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being. As Peter Kraus puts it, ‘European transnationalism offers some possibility for the articulation of cultural identities below and beyond the nations-state, contributing to some extent to the ‘denationalisation’ of political culture’ (Kraus: 2003: 674). It is a paradigm shift that can take into account the decoupling processes that are under way between society and nation-state, between citizenship and identity, between culture and territoriality, and between power and politics. However, we need to be careful not to overlook the continuing significance and power of the methodological nationalism which pervades a lot of intellectual, academic and policy discourse on Europe. The thinking which collapses the complexity of Europe to a single story of community-building does not help us to understand the changing social and political landscape of contemporary Europe, but also, this Westphalian legacy obscures the founding tension at the heart of the European project. Before opening up the topic of the challenge of migrant transnationalism for Europe, then, I want briefly to discuss the contradictory logics that have informed the European integration process, with a view to thinking about their implications. We will see that, within these different and contradictory logics there has always been a school of thought veering towards what Peter Kraus characterises as post-national or cosmopolitan positions. The question is whether post-national thinking is able to offer better tools to grasp the changing path of modernity in Europe. Might cosmopolitanism, in other words, be a useful framework now to ground the new sociality emerging out of the transnationalism of migrant experience in Europe?

European diversities We are by now very familiar with the unification process in Europe that brought about a single European area with its parliament, its court, money, flag, and recently its Constitutional Treaty (signed in October 2004 by the heads of each state and governments) creating the post of Union Minister of Foreign Affairs with the remit of strengthening the Union’s role in world affairs. And the finalization of the Constitutional Treaty, laying the legal foundation of European citizenship, might be regarded as the crowning of what looks like the reinvention of Europe as an enlarged nation-state. All the elements seem to be in place for what Chris Shore has described as ‘the formation of a “European nationstate”’ (Shore, 2000: 31). Drawing on Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism (1983), Shore has indeed concluded that ‘the EU is one of the largest and


most important new imagined communities to have emerged in the post-colonial era’ (Shore, 2000: 207). And in many of the discussions and conceptions about Europe, we see this tendency to interpret the European project within a certain imaginaire, informed by what Andreas Wimmer and Nina Glick Schiller termed as methodological nationalism – ‘the assumption that the nation/state/society is the natural social and political form of the modern world’ (Wimmer and Glick Schiller, 2002: 302). Thus, we find in recent debates about European citizenship, too, that the model of national citizenship is the starting point. This, says Cathérine Neveu, is ‘an unsurprising feature since such a reference to the “national model” is also to be found in analyses of other dimensions of the European building process’ (Neveu, 2000:120). The debate about Europe, then, does not leave the framework of the nation-state. This is either due to a blindspot when it comes to evaluating and understanding new social and political structures, and/or it is to do with a normative position. In a recent essay on the meaning of the concept of European citizenship, Chris Shore, for instance, takes such a normative position, arguing that the ‘national principle’ as Gellner (1983) had called it, ‘has far greater democratic legitimacy and meaning than the remote and elitist ideals of the European Union and its institutions’ (Shore, 2004: 40). Quoting from Benedict Anderson, he asks ‘Who will willingly die for the COMECON or the EEC?’ (Shore, 2004: 36). For Chris Shore, the choice is between a European nation-state and the nations of Europe, and he is clear about his own inclination. Shore’s main position is that the European citizenship project is inoperable because the EU, according to Shore, ‘is simply too large, too diverse and too cumbersome to be an effective democratic unit’, it will not succeed ‘in getting closer to its citizens and winning their consent to be governed’ (ibid.). In Shore’s analysis, we have a good example of how the prism of the national is the only available optic. ‘A key rationale for Union citizenship’, says Shore, ‘was arguably to strengthen the legitimacy of the Union by nurturing feelings of belonging’. European citizenship was ‘a free-floating signifier designed to … invent the category of a “European public”’ (Shore, 2004: 31). In this reading, there is no other rationale for Union citizenship other than what nation-state model dictates. Thus, it is out of the question for Shore to accept the possibility that citizenship might be decoupled from sense of belonging and identity. And, not surprisingly, he is dismissive against those views which espouse this decoupling, what he calls ‘the theory of supranational citizenship’.

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It seems there is a major block in discussing new ways of assessing what the new Europe is about, whether there are possibilities emerging out of what Romano Prodi (2003), the President of the European Commission put it, the ‘unique political project and the only true political and institutional innovation in the world’. Attempts at grasping ‘the very newness of the European project’ (Neveu, 2000: 119), seem to come to a premature halt by the very nature of their nation-centric discourses (this is the methodological nationalism that has permeated the research and thinking in this field). Jo Shaw and Antje Wiener describe this as the ‘touch of stateness’. Shaw and Wiener argue that ‘the perseverance of the “touch of stateness” is quite impressive in the context of European integration studies’ (Shaw and Wiener, 2000: 2). What this means is ‘studying a non-state polity within the frame of stateness, with all its theoretical and methodological implications’ (ibid.). From the point of view of legal scholars too, Shaw and Wiener argue that there is a similar inability to see beyond the confines of this statist paradigm. ‘The temptation’, they say, towards this wholehearted embrace of stateness has occurred partly because, in spite of a general intuition that the EU is not a state and never will be a state even though it satisfies basic criteria in relation to territoriality, population and government, legal scholars have struggled to find a convincing alternative vocabulary to express mixity, ‘betweenness’ or liminality of the EU. (Shaw and Wiener, 2000: 14) In a review of recent trends in the scholarship on Europe, Gerard Delanty too points out, referring to how the ‘normative standpoint for the critique of Europeanization can no longer be the nation-state’, a need for new methods and theories. ‘As long as we think within the horizons of a particular model of modernity’, says Gerard Delanty, ‘and the specific political order it gave rise to, namely the culturally integrated nation-state, we will not be able to comprehend the current situation’ (Delanty, 2003: 486). However, it is not a foregone conclusion that, despite the seeming inability to go beyond the methodological nationalism in the master narratives to do with Europe, the EU is becoming nation-state-like, or that in the Europeanization process only the nation-state paradigm overruled. As Peter A. Kraus says, ‘[a]t the present stage, the EU can be characterised by the confluence of two contradictory logics in its institutional framework: intergovernmentalism and supranationalism’


(Kraus, 2003: 673). As Kraus explains, intergovernmentalism developed because of the unwillingness of European nation-states to renounce their sovereignty, especially in the area of cultural identity. Supranationalism, on the other hand, came out of a particular historical moment when there emerged a comprehensive will among the European nation-states to ‘end entrenched inter-state conflicts over geographical hegemony in the region once and for all’ (ibid.). The EU, therefore, in this reading, is ‘a multi-layered and contradictory institutional domain’ where there are intergovernmental negotiations going on, as well as some transfer of sovereignty to the EU-level governance (ibid.). The issue, however, is that supranationalism in itself is also subject to different pulls and interpretations. In fact, the nature of the supranationalism of Europe is closely linked to the debate on Europe’s identity. Will supranationalism develop in the direction of ‘cultural fundamentalism’, the familiar trope that, in the words of Verena Stolcke, ‘unequivocally roots nationality and citizenship in a shared cultural heritage’ (Stolcke, 1995: 12)? Or, might it evolve to become a test case for cosmopolitan democracy, where the principle of strict separation of cultural and political identities is key (Kraus, 2003: 669)? Here, we are talking about one of the founding tensions behind the project of European integration, that is the struggle between an imagination of Europe that is based on a shared sense of cultural identity – a Europe with culture at its foundation – and a Europe coming together solely on the basis of a shared political vision, making Europe a democratic space of ‘stability, peace and security’. Writing within the context of Turkey’s membership, Ahmet Insel talks about two axes of confrontation in Europe. The first axis is the confrontation between a Europe based on a common cultural foundation and a Europe based on a political foundation. The second axis of confrontation involves the question about the purpose of Europe, whether the European integration process carries an ambition towards becoming a power base in international arena or whether it is about creating a common market for free trade and mobility (Insel, 2003). This way of understanding Europe, as a site and institutional practice, always in the making, evolving as a result of the confrontation of different and diverse logics, allows a more open-ended vision, a possibility for intervention in the direction and definition of this complex phenomena. The European project, in other words, is not a foreclosed and predetermined undertaking as the Westphalians would want us to believe. It is precisely a project, in a constant building process, referring to ‘an open-ended ontology’ (Bellier and Wilson, 2000: 16). Turkey’s membership to Europe is a good case here, illustrating the

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dynamic aspect of Europe. What is more, for Ahmet Insel, Turkey’s entry will alter the balance between the culturalist versus the political arguments, tilting it towards the political. By accepting a culturally different country into its midst, Europe will have to look for a different foundation for its unity, and that would have to be the political one. If we go back to the discussion about the nature of supranationalism in Europe, there are currently two opposite positions, the ‘Westphalian’ and the ‘post-nationalist’ cosmopolitanism (Kraus, 2003). Within the EU machinery, too, we find this tension, perhaps not named as such between Westphalians and cosmopolitans, but between a transnationalism marked by the desire for the greater interpenetration of societies, and a social integrationism which seeks to develop a stronger sense of European identity and citizenship (Tsoukalis, 2003; Shore, 2004). In the academic writing, Westphalians tend to think within the conceptual universe of the nation-state and interpret the evolving phenomena of Europe largely within the discursive framework of Benedict Anderson’s ‘imagined community’. Analysing EU cultural policy, Monica Sassatelli, for instance, sees only the nation in the making: ‘The Europe referred to by the EU can be envisaged as an “imagined community” in the making’ (Sassatelli, 2002: 436; see also Field, 2003). Chris Shore’s discussion of ‘supranational citizenry’, for instance, provides also a good illustration of the limitations of this particular methodological universe. Chris Shore, in his argument against those who are trying to think about citizenship as detached from emotional attachments to territory and cultural affinities, puts forward his thinking in the following way: I want to stress from the outset that I take citizenship to be a composite concept, a socio-cultural category that necessarily includes both legal and political as well as subjective, emotional and cultural dimensions. Indeed, the identity-endowing element of citizenship derives precisely from the legal and political benefits, rights and duties that citizenship confers upon its members. To divide these components into separate realms or to imagine that they can be easily decoupled with the emotional dimension of citizenship (the ‘Eros’) tidily removed, is empirically untenable and…results in a disembodied, legalistic, and a-cultural view of citizenship that simply does not correspond to lived reality. (Shore, 2004: 29) In other words, according to Chris Shore, there is, by definition, no way of decoupling citizenship from national and cultural identity. This is not a theoretical possibility, clearly because of his definition of citizenship,


and not a practical one either, as the spectacles with which he is looking at the lived reality do not allow him to see anything but what he postulated within his theoretical premise. The limitations of this view have been argued by the advocates of ‘post-nationalism’. Using the case of guestworkers in Europe as a way of illustrating how their modality of membership in European host polities is contradicting predominant conceptions of citizenship, Yasemin Soysal (1994) has pointed out the emerging incongruence between culture and political society. Soysal argues that ‘national citizenship is losing ground to a more universal model of membership, anchored in deterritorialised notions of persons’ rights’ (ibid.: 3). For post-nationalist thinkers, the EU presents an ‘historically unprecedented possibility of grounding political rule in a “pure” civic community, a community exempt from any kind of primordial substratum’ ¨ (Kraus, 2003: 669). According to Jurgen Habermas, an advocate of post-nationalism, civic community or civic nation is characterized by voluntarism, ‘the collective identity of which exists neither independent of nor prior to the democratic process from which it springs’ (Habermas, 2001: 15). Here, we have the decoupling of emotional, subjective and cultural aspects of citizenship from the political. In other words, by untying ‘the national constitution from the Romantic idea that a nation’s democratic legitimacy is its foundation in a population of common descent’ (Andersen, 2003: 18), Habermas’s thinking paves the way for an open conceptualization of Europe as a political and civic community. This separation between culture and territory, culture and nation, however, does not imply a de-cultural view of citizenship. On the contrary, Habermas is very clear that for democratic citizenship to work, people should be able to exercise their preferred forms of life. ‘My sense is that’, says Habermas, ‘multicultural societies can be held together by a political culture, however much it has proven itself, only if democratic citizenship pays off not only in terms of liberal individual rights and rights of political participation, but also in the enjoyment of social and cultural rights’ (Habermas, 1998: 409). The open nature of the political space allows the confrontation between various cultural identities, and this, according to Habermas, ‘helps achieve a new attitude to culture, which is significant for the self-understanding of the cosmopolitan citizen’ (Andersen, 2003: 23). The point here is that it is crucial to relativize the nation-state model of thinking and to pluralize the accounts and visions about Europe. It is through these self-reflexive processes that it would be possible to ‘emancipate [ourselves] from the Nation-State paradigm which still

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commands much of the readings of this historical process’ (Abeles, 1996, quoted in Neveu, 2000: 120). As we begin to emancipate ourselves from methodological nationalism, we are able to see that ‘the New Europe of the EU is in fact a variety of new Europes’ (Bellier and Wilson, 2000: 22). We become more open to new ways of thinking about what Douglas Holmes characterizes as, ‘the stunning transformations unfolding across Europe’ (Holmes, 2000: 112). One such question that many analysts ask is: ‘What kind of social order does advanced European integration engende?’ (Holmes, 2000: 111)? As Gerard Delanty puts it, the question is ‘whether European integration can articulate a conception of the social independent of national society’. Douglas Holmes analyses two discourses – French Social Modernism and Catholic Social Doctrine – that established, from a top-down fashion, ‘a very specific social architecture for the European project’ (Holmes, 2000: 94). Both these discourses, however, had the national organization of society as their reference point. For the French social modernism, for instance, the central question was to mobilize the French state around ‘the social question’. These thinkers ‘viewed the fundamental problem of societal integration in the face of widening material inequalities between classes as the pivotal challenge for the state’ (Holmes, 2000: 97). Social Catholicism too ‘has its roots in the emergence of industrial societies in the late nineteenth century’ (ibid.). This kind of analysis has been very valuable in understanding the dominant discourses behind the conceptualizations and practice of Europeanization process; however, more than ever, we are now faced with the task of examining the nature of social change from a more bottom-up, sociological perspective. Yet, as Delanty cautions us, ‘we need to rethink our notion of society’, that it is futile to ‘transpose the conventional concepts of social integration borrowed from the nation-state to the European level’ (Delanty, 1998: 14).

Transnational migrations/transnational Europe What I intend to do now is to look at the nature of the social transformation that is underway in Europe by looking at the experience of migrants. In our previous work we have looked at Turkish migrant transnationalism in a number of cultural domains (including media consumption, cultural industries, consumer culture) (Robins and Aksoy, 2004). We arrived at the conclusion that Turkish transnational migrants seem to be developing a different kind of involvement with society – meaning involvement on a different basis and also


involvement in a different kind of social space (ibid.). And the issue of changing sociality should be at the heart of any attempt to re-think Europe, to envision other scenarios for European futures. It is already being recognized that Europe is evolving into a transnational space. As Maurice Roche puts it: [t]hrough such everyday and popular cultural practices as these [such as shopping and touring and to a lesser extent, watching television], and not (only) by the ‘top-down’ impositions of elite policy makers in the EU system, a new Europe is being constructed as both a transnational region and also as a meta-cultural space containing rich diversity of cultures (‘heritages’, local cultures, national styles, etc.) and a massive potential for creative cultural hybridization (evident in the central zones of its main cities and tourist resorts). (Roche, 2001: 83) What is novel in this is that it introduces the idea of mobility and across-boundary flows as major shapers of cultural futures in Europe. Europe is no longer envisaged as a collection of nation-states, where each contains (and guards) their own culture and society, but as a fluid space of cultural flows and social interactions – cultural relations taking the character of transculturalism. This is a transformation involving the de-coupling of geographic space and social space. What is missing in Maurice Roche’s analysis, however, is the impact of migrant transnationalism for European society. Ludger Pries, in his account of the transformation from the convergent model of social and geographical spaces to the de-coupled model, takes migrant transnational social networks as his key reference. To explain what this convergence and de-coupling means, it is best to quote from Pries himself: over the last two or three hundred years in Europe, the social space comprising everyday life and concentrated social ‘interlacing coherence networks’ (Elias 1986) and the social institutions that structure human life became increasingly meshed with a ‘delimitable’ and contiguous geographic space covering a specific surface area. Coexistence among people and their ‘socialisation’, in the sense of their coming together in social interaction, became more and more tied, in reciprocal exclusiveness, to more or less clearly definable and known geographic spheres. A certain space extending over a geographic area (a ‘territory’ or ‘locale’) corresponded to one and only one socially compressed space (e.g. feudal empire, a city-state, or

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a national society); conversely, every social space ‘occupied’ precisely one geographically specific space. It can generally be said that in such cases the geographic space and the social space were embedded exclusively in each other. (Pries, 1999: 4) Pries then goes on to suggest how this coupling process have been undermined and ‘that a qualitative change toward greater dissociation of geographic and social spaces has become apparent as this century draws to a close’ (Pries, ibid.). Pries highlights two processes. The first is what he calls ‘stacking’, where ‘very different social spaces with no relationship to one another and which previously excluded each other in geographic terms’ come together in the same geographic space (‘become stacked)’. He gives the example of global cities here, how they are ‘agglomerations, extending over geographic areas, of totally distinct social spaces that do not correspond with each other’ (Pries, 1999: 4, and also see Aksoy in this volume). The second is the expansion of social spaces over and across geographical spaces. The emergent spaces, Pries calls ‘transnational social spaces’: they are spatially diffuse or pluri-local, at the same time comprising a social space that is not exclusively transitory. The social space serves as an important frame of reference for social positions and positioning and also determines everyday practices, biographical employment projects, and human identities, simultaneously pointing beyond the social context of national societies. (Pries, 1999: 26) And, according to Pries, the mobility of migrants and the networks and relations that are formed by migrant communities across national boundaries are key to this process of transnationalization of social spaces. In our work on Turkish transnational networks in Europe we also concluded that Turkish migrants operate within social spaces that span a number of different residences and geographical spaces (Aksoy and Robins, 2003). In what follows I will discuss this in detail, and I will try to draw conclusions as to what new forms of connectivity across national boundaries mean in terms of the social transformation in Europe. In order to do this, however, we need to understand the changing nature of migrations into Europe. Since the end of the Second World War, there have been two different dynamics of migration into Western Europe. The first, which took off in the 1950s, was generally characterized by migrations of colonial


and post-colonial populations to the imperial ‘mother countries’ – for example migrations from West Africa and the Maghreb into France, from Indonesia into the Netherlands, or from the Caribbean and South Asia into Britain. Migration was to particular and limited destinations, determined for the most part by shared (albeit unequally) historical, cultural and linguistic links. In recent years, this pattern of post-colonial migration has been of diminishing significance, and we may now say that it has progressively given way to new migrations of a different kind. The second dynamic of migration really began to take off in the 1970s, and was associated initially with the relatively large-scale migrations from Turkey. Unlike the earlier generation of settlers, these migrants were not travelling to an imperial centre, but to whichever European country would accept them (Germany, of course, being then the primary receiving country). They had no historical, and therefore privileged, relation to any particular European country - it was not historical ‘destiny’, but something more fortuitous and arbitrary, that generally brought them to wherever they happened to land up in the European continent. Subsequently, other groups (from China, the ex-Soviet Union, Eastern Europe, Africa, and elsewhere) have migrated into Europe for the same kinds of economic, social and political reasons. Only in the 1990s,when this strategy of migration reached its high point, could some clearer sense begin to develop as to what might be new and distinctive about it. What is it that is distinctive about these newer, transnational patterns of migration? This is an absolutely central issue for migration research at the present time. As a result of the more open logic of their migration trajectories, transnational migrants have generally tended to be dispersed to more than one European country. What has become characteristic, then, is their relatively wide distribution across the European space (and beyond). And, as a consequence of this new kind of dispersed and cross-border migration pattern, we can observe the coming into existence of new and complex cultural connections and networks. What is distinctive about the new migrant cultures, then, is the nature and degree of transnational connectivity and connectedness – the transnational dimension of migrants’ everyday lives. Absolutely crucial here, of course, is the technological and communications infrastructure (relatively cheap and easy air travel, cheaper and new telecommunications) that now makes this kind of interconnection possible, and even routine. Being able to travel, sometimes even ‘commute’, between places in which one has vital interests, changes the nature of migrant experience significantly. What communications technologies are now making possible is the enlargement of the lifespace of migrants, involving the

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capacity to be relatively easily synchronized with lifeworlds situated elsewhere.

Turkish migrants in Europe: a particular trajectory The Turkish population in Europe constitutes a very good case to understand the nature of the contemporary connections, networks, mobility and travel between places. And the proximity of Turkey to Western European locations has contributed significantly to these connections and mobilities. Turks have constructed the social infrastructure for networking across Europe, and between Europe and Turkey, and this infrastructure now supports the constant mobility that is taking place between Europe and Turkey. Networking has meant that Turkish populations have been able to accommodate themselves to transformations in Turkey in the various spheres of life. What networking has also meant is that Turkish migrants have been able to become fluent ‘translators’ between cultures; they have developed their competences with up-to-date knowledge of both sides, widening their networking and functioning as access nodes for others to use these networks. There has been an important shift in the nature of the networking that the Turks in Europe are involved in. In the 1970s and 1980s, networking had a more social dynamic – people networked to keep their sense of selves and their sense of community intact. From the 1990s onwards, however, with the changes in the employment situation of most of the Turkish people in Europe, we may say that networking achieved a new meaning beyond the confines of community. As more and more people moved into setting up small businesses, channelling their investments into running service industries (the food industry, tourism), business networks developed, often involving nodes in Turkey and across Europe. We can now talk of the emergence of networking practices that go beyond the ‘ethnic’ or the ‘community’. One of the interesting developments within the Turkish population in Europe is the development of sophisticated Europe-wide businesses, linking countries within Europe and with Turkey in some way. These new business ventures have become successful on the basis of exploiting the social and cultural capital common to Turkish people in Europe and in Turkey, as well as the more standard business strategies of diversification, networking and flexibility. The structure and function of families have been changing too. Turkish migrant families have been in the process of transformation, from relatively bounded entities to distributed and networked structures


spread across territories and nations. In this unprecedented transformation, the role of transnational networking and the increasing mobility of migrants across Europe – for business, investment, consumption, leisure, educational and social purposes – has been central. Within the European context, where internal borders are being removed, and where in certain countries it is possible to hold double citizenship, barriers to mobility have become, relatively speaking, lower, leading to greater possibilities for people to mobilize different resources in different territories. Hence, we see many cases where family members spread out to different places in order to maximise desired outcomes in terms of quality of life and expectations. Family structures thus change, becoming fragmented and distributed. But, at the same time, ‘traditional’ familial social relations still remain intact. Despite the fact that family members live in different countries, intense and continuous familial relations carry on across borders and territories. The family has become a networked structure and what is more, with the emergence of distributed and networked family structures, we find that familial relations encompass broader functions than just being container structures for reproduction, belonging, identity and socialization. It seems that family networks may also be becoming information networks, relaying knowledge about opportunities in the wider world of both socioeconomic and socio-political action. Family networks become key points of entry into wider networks of social, political and religious kinds, and family networks also become embedded in business-oriented operations (cf. Putz, 2003). What is actually being instituted, as a consequence of transnationalization, is a different kind of sociality, one that has been address in other areas of the social sciences in terms of ‘network sociality’ (Wittel, 2001). For those involved in transnational connections, new kinds of social resourcefulness become vital, beyond the resources that may once have been available from community attachments. They must have the capacity to build social networks, or translocal connections, and then the capacity to continuously deconstruct and reconstruct them in the light of changing circumstances and experiences. This would appear to be the innovative principle that is now operating in many transnational migrant enterprises. As people’s networking activities spread to many domains of life (business, education, familial, political, community-based) and to many geographical locations, beyond the host country and Turkey, there emerges a sense that the society that people imagine themselves living in does not stop at the boundaries of the nation-state. What is ‘outside’

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is also part of people’s everyday experiential world. It is a sense of the continuum between the ‘local’ space and the space beyond. This new situation heralds a new kind of sociality, a sociality that goes beyond the confines of what Pries characterizes as ‘container space’ – that is national societies (Pries, 1999: 10, 18). This new sociality has as its constitutive element an everyday practice of living and thinking transnationally and transculturally. Transnational migrants are actively involved in multiple linkages, then, and depend on such linkages, and therefore tend to have complex sets of affiliations. One key consequence is that their interests cannot be served by any single nation-state, and so there may no longer be a positive incentive to invest their interests and attachments in any one national community. As Stephen Castles makes clear, the logic of multiple affiliations works to question the dominance of the nationstate as the focus of social belonging. The challenge to the national order is fundamental. For what is now made more and more apparent is that ‘the notion of primary loyalty to one place is…misleading: it was an icon of old-style nationalism that has little relevance for migrants in a mobile world’ (Castles, 2002: 1159). In the transnational context, national culture and identity – in the singular form in which it has prevailed until now – comes to seem restrictive and inadequate. And, as a result, the aura and authority of national identity tend to be weakened. What has become more apparent, through the emergent reality of transnational spaces, is that the old and assumed isomorphism between culture, polity and territory is no longer to be taken as given. The fundamental principle upon which national cultures and communities have been predicated has been called into question. And, as a consequence, a new imagination of culture and cultural diversity has become possible. As Rainer Bauböck (2003: 14) says, we might now see transnational migration as ‘a catalyst that sets into motion a process of self-transformation of collective identities towards a more pluralistic and maybe even cosmopolitan outlook.’

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Migrants are, then, enlarging Europe in more than one sense. As they are criss-crossing between the various metropolitan spaces across Europe and beyond, to visit family members, or involve in business transactions, or engaging in virtual communications (such as watching transnational television) that collapse and at the same time extend


spaces, they are contributing to the reinvention of Europe as a transnational and transcultural space. However, as Ulrich Beck says, ‘methodological nationalism [or ‘national categories of thought’] denies the empirical reality of Europe’, that is the diversity and cosmopolitanism that is already there (Beck, 2003: 46). And if it is not a denial of this cosmopolitanism from within, then what we confront most of the time is fear. Fear, because cosmopolitanism from below suggest change not only in the reality of things (national societies, local communities, individuals, Europe), but also necessitates a shift in the way we think about them. As Stephen Castles says, ‘if the dynamics of social relations transcend borders, then so must the theories and methods used to study them’ (Castles, 2003: 23). But, perhaps it is possible to reassure those in fear of cosmopolitanization (‘a process that suspends and blurs boundaries’ says Beck, 2000), by pointing out, as I have tried to do, that the idea of a cosmopolitan Europe has always been there in the constitution of the European project. As Ulrich Beck argues, ‘[c]osmopolitan Europe was founded as something that struggles morally, politically, historically and economically for reconciliation’ (Beck,2003: 43). Perhaps, as the everyday practices of living and thinking transnationally and transculturally find root in Europe, we are at a favourable juncture, once again, to begin to imagine a cosmopolitan future for Europe. References Aksoy, A. and Robins, K. (2003) ‘The Enlargement of Meaning: Social Demand in a Transnational Context’, Gazette: The International Journal For Communication Studies, vol. 65, no. 4–5: 365–88. Andersen, D. (2003) ‘The Paradox of “the People” ’, Radical Philosophy, vol. 119, May–June. Bauböck, R. (2003) ‘Farewell to Multiculturalism? Sharing Values and Identities in Societies of Immigration’, Journal of International Migration and Integration, vol. 3 no. 1: 1–16. Bauman, Z. (1998) ‘Europe of Strangers’, working papers on http://www. transcomm.ox.ac.uk Beck, U. (2003) ‘Cosmopolitan Europe: Understanding the Real Europe’, Dissent, Summer: 42–7. Beck, U. (2000) ‘The Cosmopolitan Perspective: Sociology of the Second Age of Modernity’, British Journal of Sociology, vol. 51 no. 1: 79–105. Bellier, I. and Wilson, T.M. (2000) ‘Building, Imagining and Experiencing Europe: Institutions and Identities in the European Union’, in I. Bellier and T.M. Wilson (eds), An Anthropology of the European Union. Oxford: Berg. Castles, S. (2002) ‘Migration and Community Formation under Conditions of Globalisation’, International Migration Review, vol. 36 no. 4: 1143–68. Castels, S. (2003) ‘Towards a Sociology of Forced Migration and Social Transformation’, Sociology, vol. 37 no. 1: 13–34.

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Delanty, G. (1998) ‘Social Theory and European Transformation: Is there a European Society?’, Sociological Research Online, vol. 3 no. 1: 1–22. Delanty, G. (2000) Citizenship in a Global Age, Open University Press, Buckingham. Delanty, G. (2003) ‘Conceptions of Europe: A Review of Recent Trends’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 6 no. 4: 471–88. Field, H. (2003) ‘EU Cultural Policy and the Creation of a Common European Identity’, http://www.pols.canterbury.ac.nz/ECSANZ/papers/Field.htm. Gellner, E. (1983) Nations and Nationalism. Oxford: Blackwell. Habermas, J. (1998) ‘The European Nation-State: On the Past and Future of Sovereignty and Citizenship’, Public Culture, vol. 10 no. 2: 397–416. Habermas, J. (2001) ‘Why Europe Needs a Constitution’, New Left Review, vol.11, September–October. Holmes, D.R. (2000) ‘Surrogate Discourses of Power: The European Union and the Problem of Society’, in I. Bellier and T.M. Wilson (eds) op.cit. Insel, A. (2003) ‘Olmayan Avrupa Projesi’, Radikal 2, 16 November. Kraus, P.A. (2003) ‘Cultural Pluralism and European Polity-Building: Neither Westphalia nor Cosmopolis’, Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 41 no. 4: 665–86. Lévy, B-H. (2003) ‘A Passage to Europe’, Time Special Double Issue, 18–25 August. Neveu, C. (2000) ‘European Citizenship, Citizens of Europe and European Citizens’, in I. Bellier and T.M. Wilson (eds) op.cit. Pries, L. (1999) ‘New Migration in Transnational Spaces’, in L. Pries (ed.), Migration and Transnational Social Spaces. Aldershot: Ashgate. Prodi, R. (2003) ‘Enlargement of the Union and European Identity’, www.europe.eu.int. Putz, R. (2003) ‘Culture and entrepreneurship: remarks on transculturality as practice’, Tijdschift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie, vol. 94 no. 5: 554–63. Robins, K. and Aksoy, A. (2004) ‘Whoever Looks Always Finds: Transnational Viewing and Knowledge-Experience’, in J. Chalaby (ed.), Transnational Television Worldwide: Towards a New Media Order. London: IBB Tauris. Roche, M. (2001) ‘Citizenship, Popular Culture and Europe’, in N. Stevenson (ed.), Culture and Citizenship. London: Sage. Sassatelli, M. (2002) ‘Imagined Europe: The Shaping of a European Cultural Identity through EU Cultural Policy’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 5 no. 4: 435–51. Shaw, J. and Wiener A. (2000) ‘The Paradox of the “European Polity” ’, Harvard Jean Monnet Working Paper, 10/99. Shore, C. (2004) ‘Whither European Citizenship: Eros and Civilization Revisited’, European Journal of Social Theory, vol. 7 no. 1: 27–44. Soysal, Y.N. (1994) Limits of Citizenship: Migrants and Postnational Membership in Europe. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Stolcke, V. (1995) ‘Talking Culture: New Boundaries, New Rhetorics of Exclusion in Europe’, Current Anthropology, vol. 36 no. 1: 53–79. Taylor, C. (2002) ‘Modern Social Imaginaries’, Public Culture, vol. 14 no. 1:91–124. Toynbee, P. (2002) ‘We need a fortress’, The Guardian, June 21. Tsoukalis, L. (2003) What Kind of Europe? Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wimmer, A. and Glick Schiller, N. (2002) ‘Methodological nationalism and beyond: nation-state building, migration and the social sciences’, Global Networks, vol. 2 no. 4: 301–34. Wittel, A. (2001) ‘Toward a Network Sociality’, Theory, Culture and Society, vol. 18 no. 6: 51–76.

10 Beyond the Diaspora: Transnational Practices as Transcultural Capital Ulrike Hanna Meinhof and Anna Triandafyllidou

Introduction This chapter analyses three prevalent theoretical approaches to the study of migrant populations today which are often subsumed under the umbrella term of transnationalism: diaspora, (neo-)communitarianism and cosmopolitanism. Our aim is to clarify and narrow down the phenomena associated with migration discourses and experiences, so as to render the different connotations associated with these terms more explicit and empirically useful. Diaspora in a narrow sense carries connotations of alienation, displacement, nostalgia and with it a wish to return to a ‘motherland’ (see also Faist, 1999: 46). In its starkest form it is usually the result of an enforced separation, due to political repression, starvation, or other catastrophic political and economic conditions at home. Neocommunitarianism, by contrast, is not premised on a wish to return to a motherland. Instead it preserves a strong focus on community ties and a prevalent ethnic culture at the new place of settlement. Here migrants live ‘dual lives’ with a ‘bi-focal’ vision directed at both the new and the old home communities (Vertovec, 2004; Portes et al., 1999: 217). Hence neo-communitarianism can carry connotations of local ghettoization, ethnic segregation, long-distance nationalism and an unwillingness to engage with either dominant or diverse cultures. At the same time it can be seen as a form of ‘social capital’ (Putnam, 1993; Halpern, 2005) through the multiple support systems it provides through its close ties and networks (Waldinger et al., 1990; Sanders et al., 2002). Cosmopolitanism, by contrast, suggests hybridization, cultural dynamism and multiple cultural and social flows. However – in some forms at least – cosmopolitanism may not fully allow for the continuing importance 200


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of country of origin and ethnic ties in migrant networks. Seen negatively it may therefore suggest rootlessness and de-centring, a ‘sense of placelessness’ (Yeoh et al., 2003: 213). In this chapter we will first of all explore some of the facets of these analytical categories. Secondly, we shall argue that whilst these are useful analytical tools for understanding and differentiating the range of transnational practices, they should not be employed as boxes into which we can fit individual migrants or specific immigrant populations in a given local or national context, once and for all. Instead of seeing them as essentializing categorizations, we would like to propose that they constitute a range of practices, representing tendencies and predispositions of particular migrants which can exist side by side, and become more or less dominant according to the situation and context. Rather these approaches should be employed as lenses through which to examine and interpret social practices and behaviour. In many instances, and we shall give examples of these in the third section of our paper, diasporic, neo-communitarian and cosmopolitan lifestyles constitute overlapping repertoires that offer complementary identifications for migrants in diverse cultural settings and different everyday life contexts. Instead of stressing the positive or negative aspects of either of these, which may be overcome by integration into a ‘Leitkultur’ (see also Chapter 5) or transcended entirely by global diversity, we propose an alternative, where these are seen as interconnecting, non-exclusionary resources. Within the transnational spaces opened up by modern means of communication, migrants’ everyday lives may be entrenched and diversified in novel ways combining facets of all three. These are empirical questions open to fieldwork and data analysis – hence our third section will be based on our research with cultural actors of migrant background in several capital cities in Europe. We shall thus seek to adopt an ethnographic perspective and highlight not so much how immigrant cultural practices and behaviour belong ‘objectively’ into one of the above approaches, but rather how immigrants construct themselves intersubjectively their lives and experiences in transnational and transcultural ways that contain elements of all three perspectives mentioned above. More specifically, in the final section we will link our empirical work to the notion of ‘transcultural capital’. Transcultural capital is a term we have adapted from Bourdieu’s insightful remark that ‘capital presents itself under three fundamental species (each with its own subtypes), namely economic capital, cultural capital and social capital’ (Bourdieu and Wacqant, 1992: 119). With ‘transcultural capital’ we want to

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suggest a potential linkage between all three forms of ‘capital’ by highlighting the strategic use of knowledge, skills and networks acquired by migrants through connections with their country and cultures of origin which are made active at their new places of residence. Through the concept of transcultural capital we will be able to describe in an interactive and mutually supporting way some of the everyday life practices of the migrant musicians we studied: for example the strategic possibilities of strong local and transnational ties within and across migrant communities (social capital), of widespread bi- or multilingualism, bi- or multiculturalism (cultural capital), of retaining vibrant artistic roots in originating cultures but blending these with new local and global influences. Migrants can strategically employ their transcultural capital to maximize rather than restrict their options, thus furthering their economic and professional development in their daily lives. Transcultural capital thus supersedes the oppositional discourses of ‘diasporic’ communities on the one hand and ‘cosmopolitan’ flows on the other by underlining the potential arising from a repertoire of options drawn from across the spectrum.

Analysing transnationalism The term transnationalism is often applied to a wide-ranging set of phenomena with different connotations and implications for the interrelationship between country of origin and settlement, the networking among migrants of the same or different ethnic origin, and the interrelation between migrants and non-migrants. Steven Vertovec (2004), who headed the ESRC’s Transnational Communities programme, usefully summarizes the criticism made against theories of transnationalism. On the one hand critics such as, amongst others, Kivisto (2001) and Nagel (2002) deplore the lack of differentiation between different practices amongst migrants, in that there is a conceptual ‘conflation and overuse of the term’. Categories such as diaspora, global, international, or ‘transnational, trans-state, or trans-local’ are often used interchangeably. They also critique a lack of clarity as to whether or which transnational practices among migrants are new or simply a continuation of earlier practices albeit via new technologies. Because of the emphasis on new technologies which underpin and make possible transnationalism, its adherents are also often accused of ‘technological determinism’. At the same time transnationalists are also criticized for overstating difference, in that assimilation and integration are seen as the strict opposites to transnationalism rather than as interconnecting phenomena.


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According to Vertovec (2004) the question to be asked is whether transnational practices of migrants today constitute a genuine and hence enduring transformation of social relations; a question which can only be answered if more detailed and differentiated empirical studies throw light on the nature and range of practices across migrants’ social networks, and across generations. Our study of cultural agents with migrant background is meant as a contribution to this wider debate.

Diaspora theories Diaspora nationalism theories sustain a ‘thick’ view of the nation as the most pertinent form of collective identification today. They subscribe to a ‘classical’ approach to nations and nationalism within which the organization of the world into nation-states is presented as a ‘natural’ and uncontested fact of life. Following this view, ethnic and cultural boundaries should in principle coincide with political ones. Boundaries between political units are supposed to define the borders between different ethnic communities. However, the term ‘nation-state’ has always been a misnomer because, with the exception of very few cases, it denotes a multi-ethnic (or multi-national) state in which a given national group is politically, culturally and numerically dominant and thus tends to think of the state as a political extension of itself. Ethnic and cultural diversity within a nation-state is the result of either the existence of minority groups in its midst from the time of its creation (historical minorities) or of international migration. Diaspora nationalism may relate to either case. Ethnic diversity has been a historical feature of countries in Central Eastern and South Eastern Europe. Take the example, for instance, of Hungarian diasporas in neighbouring states or of German diaspora communities in former Soviet Union and more generally in Central Eastern Europe both before the Second World War, but also in the pre-1989 period. But diaspora nationalism is also often the result of international migration: in Europe this is the case of Greek, Italian, Turkish or Yugoslav populations in Germany, of Italian or Moroccan immigrants in Belgium, of Moroccan or Algerian communities in France, to name but a few examples. The co-existence of different nations or ethnic groups within the same territory requires the identity of each group to be constantly reproduced and reaffirmed if the sense of belonging to the group is to survive (Triandafyllidou, 2001). Not only national majorities but also ethnic minorities engage into a mutual process of Self–Other identity


construction. The mobilization of ethnic minorities and immigrant communities has often been described as diaspora nationalism to the extent that it has as its main point of reference the nation and the national homeland in some other (farther or closer geographically) part of the world. Diaspora nationalism emphasizes the positive character of the relationship between the ‘mother-nation’ or the ‘country of origin’ and the immigrant minority.1 Within the national imaginary, the diaspora and the mother nation belong to the same ethnic and cultural entity, share strong symbolic and cultural ties and are often linked by no less important economic and political activities. Diaspora politicians refer to a certain extent to the homeland politics and may have ties to political parties there. Domestic politics in the motherland extend to emigrant citizens. Emigrant remittances in some cases play an important role in the economy of the sending country and may even determine the overall economic development of the latter (often immigration acts as a security valve for domestic unemployment and hence social unrest). All of these aspects create a set of close ties, both material and symbolic, that seem to orient the immigrant population more towards its country of origin and believed point of return once the migratory project objectives are achieved. The analysis of such phenomena has given rise to one branch of literature on political transnationalism that looks at the political activities of ethnic diasporas and the political linkages between diasporas and their countries of origin (Itzigsohn, 2000; Smith, 2003). Diaspora nationalism theories not only emphasize the importance of these ties for ethnic and national identity in both the homeland and among the diaspora population, but also see the relationship between the immigrant community and the receiving country majority as one of limited integration, if not alienation. The immigrant community and the host society are conceived as separate entities forced to live together mainly for economic reasons. They are both assumed to be longing for national and cultural ‘authenticity’ and ‘purity’ that could be achieved only through the return of the minority to the home country. Although links between the country of origin and the diaspora community are important in explaining migration phenomena (take, for example, the case of network theory that points to the importance of ethnic and kinship ties in the continuation of migration flows between two countries; see also Vertovec, 2003) as well as processes of ethnic segregation and/or alienation between immigrant populations


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and receiving societies, they fall short of explaining several aspects of contemporary migration realities. A large part of the diaspora nationalism literature takes its point of reference as the post war migration flows which were related to the Fordist system of production. Migrant workers moved usually following bilateral state agreements between sending and receiving countries or were recruited by large companies in need of labour force. These theories, however, fail to account for the new features of migratory flows in Europe. Today immigrants often move illegally, are employed in the tertiary sector, often without proper work status or welfare contributions. They may move back and forth between the sending and receiving country or may have multiple destinations trying their luck in more than one host countries. Moreover, their motivations may be economic but not solely. They often experience migration as a life project that contributes to their overall personal development (Kosic and Triandafyllidou 2003; Kosic and Triandafyllidou, 2004; Romaniszyn, 2003; Vogel and Cyrus, 2005; Jordan and Vogel, 1997). Diaspora nationalism approaches with their focus on the diaspora– homeland relationship on the one hand, and on the presumed alienation (or lack of integration) of the minority into the receiving country fail to account for such post-industrial migration phenomena and the emerging transnational networks and identities. Contemporary migrations are characterized by more fluid relationships between hosts, migrants and their communities of origin within which ethnic and cultural boundaries are negotiated and re-defined. It would be misleading to analyse such processes through the lens of collective identities understood as stable and monolithic blocks, characterized by high internal cohesion and external differentiation. The role of diasporas as ethnic agents in the country of settlement has also been eroded. The nature of diaspora communities has changed as societies become increasingly multicultural but also post industrial and in this sense cosmopolitan.2 Recent diaspora nationalism studies have highlighted the dual nature of diaspora national identity, its status of neither here nor there and its double point of reference: in the country of settlement, usually experienced as actual ‘home’ and the country of origin, often imagined as ‘home’ too but also often experienced as an ‘alien’ culture and place (see for instance Christou, forthcoming 2006). Such ethnographic accounts of diasporic identity that highlight the complexity of dual or multiple identifications is what we wish to retain from this type of approaches. In this chapter, we shall try to highlight how diasporic identity develops in new directions


following current phenomena of transmigration (Vertovec, 1999; Glick Schiller et al., 1992: 121–3) involving often not only the usual pair of country of origin and country of settlement but several destinations (see also Duvell, 2004).

Neo-communitarianism Neo-communitarianism is related to the classical diaspora approach in that it, too, assumes tightly knit and somewhat homogeneous expatriate communities, usually clustered at a specific geographic locality with dense social networks amongst the community and links to the country of origin. But in contrast to the diaspora, it is not premised on a return to a motherland, nor is it involuntary, but rather centres on a wish to retain cultural / linguistic / economic ‘authenticity’ as a social enclave in the host country. Such authenticity is attained through the preservation of cultural and economic ties with the place of origin, that may be not the entire country of origin but the specific region or village/locality from which a given community originates. Neo-communitarianism, as the title testifies, pays special importance to the collective aspects of immigrant life. Close social and kinship networks, usually typical of agrarian and developing societies and small localities, are reproduced in urban contexts in the metropolises of the industrialized receiving countries. Ethnic neighbourhoods and ethnic business are some of the migration-related phenomena best explained through neo-communitarianism. The neo-communitarian approach does not disregard the transnational aspects of migrants’ lives as one might accuse diaspora theories of doing. Rather it looks at the migrant’s position in the country of settlement as one caught ‘between two cultures’. The two cultures, that of origin and that of the receiving society, are seen as relatively homogenous and stable units and the migrant is seen as belonging to both providing in a way for the living link between them. Minority cultural expression and activities are thus interpreted as realization, continuation and preservation of the culture and identity of origin. Portes et al. (1999: 221) suggest that studies of sociocultural aspects of transnationalism should be limited to ‘enterprises oriented towards the reinforcement of a national identity abroad or the collective enjoyment of cultural events and goods’. In other words, such approaches tend to pay attention to cultural activities that are aimed at ethnic audiences (see again Portes et al., 1999: 222), organized by embassies, in immigration centres or presentations of folk concerts in international festivals.


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Such a conception of cultures as closed boxes is implicit in much of the literature on transnationalism, like for instance the description of transnational networks given by Portes: Participants are often bilingual, move easily between different cultures, frequently maintain homes in two countries, and pursue economic, political and cultural interests that require their presence in both. (Portes, 1997: 814) This approach provides a convincing account of the re-ethnicization of second-generation immigrants (cf, for instance the Beur movement in France). This is particularly relevant for our studies where cultural production takes place within the framework often of the country and culture of origin. However, neo-communitarianism fails to account for the fact that migrants today tend to be very mobile sometimes moving between two or more destination countries. It also neglects the transnational cultural links between different immigrant groups in a large metropolis, the transnational cultural production and expression currents that are active in the cultural scene. We provide some ethnographic data to illustrate these transcultural and transnational repertoires of immigrants in the concluding section of this chapter. Cosmopolitanism theories The cosmopolitan approach pays more attention to the overall processes of social transformation in the ‘late modern’ period. The main features of the world we live in are summarized as follows: highly improved communications across the globe; better, quicker and cheaper means of long-distance transport; media that select and cover events worldwide; and the resulting compression of time and space – geographical distance becomes less important while people in disparate parts of the world are constantly ‘connected’ through new technologies. These changes greatly enhance our global interconnectedness (Held et al., 1999), not least that of immigrants as they enable them to maintain frequent and intense ties and communication with their countries of origin. Theorists of late or post modernity (for instance Giddens, 1991) have argued that individuals can be seen as free-floating agents picking and choosing from different cultural repertoires the features that suit them best and hence can create their own very individualized identities. Even though many agree that members of transnational networks


and communities ‘need political stability, economic prosperity and social well-being in their places of residence, just like anybody else’ (Castles, 2002), they argue that transmigrants living in a mobile world of culturally open societies, adapt to multiple social settings, develop crosscultural competences and no longer have a sense of primary loyalty to one place or community. They rather negotiates choices with regard to their participation in the place of settlement, in their homeland and in relation to their co-ethnics in either. The cosmopolitan perspective is a useful tool in analysing multicultural and multinational urban contexts where indeed migrants negotiate their multiple cultural and emotive attachments developing transnational identities. These approaches tend to neglect the fact that the use of new technologies may also lead to polarization between global cultural patterns – usually concentrating around issues of consumption (including the ‘consumption’ of cultural products such as film, TV programmes or music) and youth cultures – and increasingly ethnicized behaviours and traditions developing in reaction to such global cultural homogeneity within ethnic enclaves of inner-city areas. New technologies may enable the preservation of ethnic communities and cultures as closed containers with direct ties between the country/region of origin and that of settlement. One important question that is also open to investigation is the extent to which new technologies have fostered new, qualitatively different, transnational attitudes and practices leading to the development of hybrid cultures and multiple identifications that are personalized and fluid. Or whether new technologies have simply intensified and widened the scope of phenomena that existed before without making a qualitative difference. To put it simply, migrants have always led transnational lives to the extent that they moved from their place of origin to the country of settlement and to a lesser or greater degree maintained economic, cultural and emotive links with both. Have the new technologies led to the development of cosmopolitan transnational attitudes and practices or have they simply reinforced a neocommunitarian perspective in which minority cultures are transposed into new urban contexts in the countries of settlement, remaining, however, relatively isolated from both the host-society context and from wider transnational cultural currents? There is a further facet to this which can work against cosmopolitan practices amongst migrants. Second generations are sometimes ghettoized by the very policies and social attitudes in their countries of settlement which thus prevent them from either assimilating or becoming


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cosmopolitan: they are trapped in the external categorization attributed to them even if they personally identify with different groups and views. In relation to this, we also need to address the question of class. Not all migrants have equal access to new technologies and to cosmopolitan lives. Unavoidably migrants with greater average economic resources, higher education and better social skills will have more access to the necessary infrastructure, engaging thus more intensively with such transnational activities and networks. It is likely that those less affluent and less skilled may, at the same time, remain attached to their places of origin and to the ‘myth of return’ (Portes et al., 1999: 222; Bhachu, 1995: 224). This is not to say that migrants become diasporic by definition in that a singular national or ethnic identity is retained, or replaced by a narrowly defined dual identification with two home countries. This is rather to plea for caution when assuming that the availability of new technologies leads to new phenomena of transnationalism in immigrant communities in Europe. In our view, multiple identities are constructed out of a whole range of possibilities made available by the cultural diversity in countries of origin as well as settlement which – as was shown above – cannot be retained within narrow national cultures or polities. In that sense, multicultural repertoires are a reality, and especially so in large city environments. But the context in which migrants move very often includes kinship and ethnic networks which continue to confirm the significance of ‘homeland’ connections. In migration, people often rely on these networks to move, and once in destination to find employment and accommodation. Many studies, including our own, document this continuing retention of what Gillespie (2002) calls meaningful longdistance connections. In many instances these networks constitute the social capital of migrants which can be activated for personal, cultural and economic profit and thus constitutes what we want to define as ‘transcultural capital’. Using cosmopolitanism to explain immigrant integration and in particular immigrant participation in the cultural life of a metropolis is a good starting point to explain aspects of migrants’ existence, but cannot be fully satisfactory nor exhaustive.

Researching transnational practices By contrast to the above, we would like to propagate a model which can combine elements of all three of the above but without treating


them as interchangeable. Our aim is not to develop alternative theories of transnationalism but rather to demonstrate methods for studying transnational practices which can, at least in principle, make existing categories more interdependent, context-sensitive and, to some extent at least, complementary rather than opposites. Importantly, our focus here is on the socio-cultural aspects of migration, a ‘bottom-up’ vision of transnationalism which looks at migrants’ lifestyles, experiences and identities through the medium of their own discourses about themselves. This emphasizes the significance of language, or discourse in constructing experiential and interpersonal meaning and our personal and cultural identities (Meinhof and Galasinski, 2005). In our view, it is impossible to fully understand the nature of transnational practices without taking note of the ways of speaking, the selection and narrativization of experiences, and the constructions of identities and belonging of migrants themselves. This requires intensive field work, that is ethnographic observation and non-intrusive interviewing techniques. At the same time – as is true for all qualitative research – results can only be partial, and any generalization beyond that which has been researched must be treated with utmost caution. Hence it is not a new theory but a set of theoretically informed practices which underpin this chapter. The data on which this section is based stems from our field work with specific subgroups of migrants in 2003/4. In this study we focused on migrant musicians and cultural actors who originally came from Francophone Africa and are now living in Paris, and to a lesser extent in other cities, including Rome, London and Berlin. Countries of origin were Madagascar, the Maghreb and Senegal. For the purposes of our argument in this chapter it suffices to point out that all the informants referenced here were first-generation migrants who were either practising musicians or otherwise connected to the migrant music scene for example as concert promoters, agents or members of audiences. We observed a series of concerts in different types of venues and spoke to members of the audiences. We also conducted interviews in 60 to 90 minutes face-to-face encounters, which were recorded and subsequently transcribed. All informants were bi- or multilingual in French and one or more mother tongue (for example Malagasy, Algerian, Moroccan, Wolof and so on), and since depending on their new country of residence they had also acquired other local languages (that is, Italian, German or English). What we would like to demonstrate is the ways in which cultural practices as well as the discourses of our informants construct multiple sites for identification.


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If taken in isolation, some of our observations of cultural practices and some comments or parts of narratives by an informant would suggest a much more singular adhesion to one or the other of the three categories discussed above. However, within the context of the longer interviews as well as our participant observation at a series of concerts by these musicians we could appreciate the much more complex layering of people’s transnational experiences. Some of these discourses were consciously self-reflexive in that migrants positioned themselves very clearly in relation to their dual or multiple affiliations; others were carried by much more unconscious and unmonitored discursive features (for example use of pronouns; ethnic, national labels and so on). But in all cases they were not confinable within a narrow category of either diasporic, neo-communitarian or cosmopolitan lifestyles. To focus the discussion we shall restrict our examples to our work with people of Malagasy origin.

Constructing the diasporic Paris is the major centre within Europe for people of Malagasy origin. As the old imperial city during the times of French colonization of Madagascar (Madagascar gained its independence in 1960), Paris was and continues to be the first, and in many instances final stop for Malagasy emigrants. In many facets, Malagasies living in Paris display signs of a classical diaspora, for example: • Leaving a country of origin because of economic hardship – Madagascar is one of the poorest countries in the world – and lack of educational or professional opportunities at home. For example, none of the musicians we interviewed would have been able to make a living from music had they stayed in Madagascar. • Experiencing extreme culture shock, and initially at least seeing the new as alien and hostile; feeling displaced and uprooted. • Retaining deep attachment to the ‘home’ country – in Malagasy literally ‘the country of the ancestors’ – initially with an intention to return there after a period away. • Pride in the country of origin and its culture; musicians and their audiences often construct their role as ‘ambassadors’ of their culture to the outside world (Rasolofondraosolo and Meinhof, 2003). • Retaining a strong sense of ‘roots’ in their music; for example using traditional instruments (valiha, kabosy), and retaining free tuning and root rhythms based on Malagasy traditions.


• Writing lyrics almost exclusively in Malagasy; recounting experiences from, or in relation to Madagascar; strong nostalgic content, engaging imagistically, descriptively and metaphorically with Malagasy everyday life. • Using pronouns and labels which clearly mark their country of belonging as Madagascar: as in ‘nous les Malgaches’; notre culture, notre pays; notre coutumes, and so on. The first extract of one of our informants, the Malagasy singer/songwriter Erick M. who has been living in France for more than 20 years, suggests such a diasporic identity. It follows on from a section where Erick describes the inspiration to write and compose his first songs as a result of having lost his roots – ‘je m’ai senti vraiment déraciné’. According to him, his songs are ‘très nostalgiques’ (all extracts are translated from the original French): Extract 13 UM: Do you remember the first song that you wrote? When you arrived here? EM: It’s when I talk about those nostalgic songs, that’s t., the country where I come from…it’s horrible, the winter [here in France]…when you you come from a sunny country, it’s horrible, the first time, I,I well that’s to say, when you’re at the window and everything is grey, and inside you hear this dance music, that’s horrible, you can’t, you’re just here, and in those moments you say, shit, what the hell am I doing here, well, yeah UM: Ah, so it was the fact that you felt uprooted that EM: That pushed me UM: That first inspired you to write? EM: Yes because for us, the Malagasy, singing, it’s always ‘with us’, but we never think of it as a career, not even now, and that’s good because if one does it in this spirit, well… it’s at that point when I felt truly uprooted that I started to write and to compose, but I need to add, this was only for me. Afterwards I feel good, I don’t know how to express this Constructing the neo-communitarian Paris is not only itself the home for many Malagasies, it also acts as a hub for a Europe-wide network of Malagasies, interconnecting individuals, families and communities dispersed across Europe and Madagascar.


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These networks have many aspects of what looks from the outside as a neo-communitarian lifestyle: • Networks may be ‘thick’ or ‘thin’ in spatio-geographical terms, but in either case they are dense in interconnections. Regular contacts are maintained amongst Malagasies irrespective of whether or not they live next-door or more long-distance away from one another. • The key medium for retaining contacts is a combination of the older and newer technologies of telecommunication (telephone, email, internet), but connections are also physically maintained. • New emigrants use existing networks for support, for example to find accommodation, work, friends and so on. • Cultural events such as the concerts by Malagasy singers from Europe or from Madagascar play a pivotal part in constructing, performing and confirming a shared ‘cultural identity’ (Rasolofondraosolo and Meinhof, 2003; Meinhof, 2005). • Malagasies in Paris and other centres have fully settled in Europe, many of them with children already born in Europe. Nevertheless, they remain influential in the political life of Madagascar itself. Hence ‘long-distance nationalism’ play a crucial role in the organization of political parties, elections and protest movements. In that sense Malagasies construct a ‘bi-focal’, dual lifestyle. A second extract of our conversation with Erick M. shows one aspect of the social capital which neo-communitarian networks represent:4 Extract 2 UM: And when did you first begin to think to take up music as a career? EM: I never thought this could become a career, but later I had the opportunity to get to know Solo [a professional Malagasy musician] and he at that time played with G. [another musician] and it was Solo who made this proposal, well, if you’d like you could accompany G. professionally, and even there I told myself, but no, how could I do that, it’s not easy to to . . but it helped me . . after that I settled down because here, well it’s not like in Mada, you get paid, you’re declared, you pay your taxes etc, so here one can say it’s work, but even if I manage to get all of that into my head, there’s still something left which tells me this is not work, and even if I pay income tax like everyone else, in my head there remain these contradictions, but finally, little by little, I got there over the years.


This extract exemplifies a typcial instance of the support network which Malagasy musicians living in France can draw on. Erick Manana on arriving in France as a young student had no sense of the opprotunities which his music gave him, to turn his main source of pleasure and psychological support into a source of income. In other words, he had no idea of the ways in which his cultural capital – his gift as a musician – could be translated into economic capital. It is through the social capital which the Malagasy network affords him that he is introduced into the possibility of making a living. Through the Malagasy jazz musician Solo and the network of Malagasy music promoters and audiences, Erick becomes what he is today, namely one of the most celebrated Malagasy musicians amongst the diasporic community.

Constructing the cosmopolitan One of the risks of working with individuals predefined by their ethnic or national background is that of ‘methodological nationalism’ (Wimmer and Glick Schiller, 2003). Foregrounding ethnic background in the research design can lead the researcher into ever deeper cycles of ethnicity, confirming rather than challenging essentializing preconceptions. In our research we attempted to counteract these tendencies by following our artists across a spectrum of different contexts, where we could study interactions not only with Malagasy audiences but also in much more predominantly white French or mixed environments from which Malagasies were largely absent. In the interviews with the artists and concert promoters we also tried to understand the many different contexts of their existence rather than concentrating on any purely ethnically defined themes. As a result we found many features which directly respond to a cosmopolitan lifestyle amongst our informants: • interchange with artists of many different cultural origins; • critique of the respective ethnic community as too conservative in their tastes, restrictive, tightly knit, and a wish to branch out into more hybrid and innovative forms and settings; • mobility across European spaces, challenging the old imperial interconnections between country of origin and the old imperial centre; • up-skilling through mobility, for example bi-lingualism becomes triand multi-lingualism; • developing ‘transcultural capital’, that is strategically using cultural capital for social and economic advancement.


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In our conversation with Erick, we found plenty of evidence for these cosmopolitan tendencies. In this third and final quote we want to highlight this by an extract where he discusses his choice of music:5 Extract 3 EM: I remember when you were at my house, it was a long time ago because we’ve been friends for ages, and where do you hide your Malagasy CDs? You’re not the only one who made a comment like this, because at home I have not a single Malagasy CD, and its true, ask him, I haven’t even got the CDs of my own music … in fact what I listen to is Brazilian music, or African music or other stuff. I don’t listen to Malagasy CDs. I do however have plenty of Malagasy cassettes … that I buy over there. Everytime I bring back lots of cassettes, but on a daily basis I listen to Cuban music, or any other kind of music where I can find myself in, I recognize myself in their music, and that plays a huge part in my approach, to get to know other kinds of music. There’s only one music that I can’t come to grips with and that’s Chinese, there I cannot find myself, but there’s something a bit Malagasy in every other kind, like that, like a flash, and it’s that which is really interesting, and so I effectively tell myself, the Malagasy it comes from everywhere. This final extract from the same musician constructs a very different affiliation to Madagascar than the first. Whereas in the first extract Malagasy music was invoked as a nostalgic retreat from a hostile new world, here Erick explains how he draws his inspiraton from music from many different parts and traditions of the world. Insofar as he does listen to Malagasy music, it is music on cassette brought back from Madagascar rather than the more commercially produced CDs of music by popular Malagasy artists which inspire him. He sees no contradiction in the fact that his musical taste ranges across so many registers since to him Malagasy music itself is a rich confluence of different musical influences. Hence liking home-produced Malagasy music is itself part and parcel of a much wider and more flexible cosmopolitan-taste culture. A further excellent example for a ‘cosmopolitan’ lifestyle comes from another informant, Josielle R. and is illustrated by her own talk as well as through an event she organized in February 2004. Josielle – a woman of Malagasy origin of around 50 – left Madagascar as a student to attend


a French school, a Lycée. In her own words, echoed by many other informants, she explained her delight at being able to leave Madagascar and settle in Paris. She integrated very easily into a Parisian way of life, with virtually no connection to other Malagasies. She also travelled widely in Europe and the USA, and in general developed what would be a clear-cut example for a cosmopolitan lifestyle. Eight years ago Josielle founded a travel agency for arranging specialist personalized journeys to Madagascar. This was her first step towards a strategic use of her Malagasy origins in the cosmopolitan context of world travel. In February 2004, as part of a promotional scheme for developing tourism to Madagascar and to advertise her own agency, she organized a major event at the outskirts of Paris where photographs of Madagascar which her clients – mainly French tourists – had sent her after their trips were displayed on huge screens. These photos were ‘animated’ by five Malagasy musicians – all of whom belong to our circle of informants. All five musicians come from different regions of Madagascar with quite diverse musical traditions; each is a solo artist in his own right, and has previously played to Malagasy audiences as well as to ‘world’ music audiences. For this event each adapted his own solo music to a musical dialogue with the others. This interaction between the images and music was judged to be so succesful by the culturally diverse audiences, whose attendance was motivated by all kinds of diverse reasons, that it will now be continued as a show in different cities in France and possibly beyond. Josielle’s case is very interestung since from the start she embarked on a cosmopolitan career yet gradually reactivated the possibilities of her background. In our conversation with her she also shifted allegiances across the different layers of transnationalism.

Constructing transcultural capital, and its implication for cultural policy We have shown with our examples above that neither essentializing ethnic categories such as ‘diaspora’, or ‘neo-communtarianism’, nor non-ethnic categorizations such as ‘cosmopolitan’ can fully capture the self-definition, self-understanding and everyday life practices of migrants. Taking note of the life-experiences and the discursive construction of these experiences by Malagasy immigrants we found a full range of practices which could be aligned at different times with any one or the other of these categories. What is new about our findings is the ways in which these practices appeared not only as facets of different lifestyles of specific subsections of the immigrant populations


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we studied, but rather that these practices form overlapping patterns of cultural engagement and everyday life practices for specific individuals. One person on his or her own can thus demonstrate affiliations to any one of these in different contexts. One of our informants who seems at first sight a classical example of a member of a diaspora – the musician Erick M. – typically represents this movement across experiential and discursive contexts. He, as many others of the musicians, cultural actors and audience members we interviewed, has made good use of the different layers of identification which his transnational life afforded him. To describe what he has acquired and made use of we have adapted Bourdieu’s famous discussions of social and cultural capital into a new notion of ‘transcultural capital’. Erick M. is a good example of seeing such transcultural capital at work. Having become a successful musician living in France he clearly depends on the mediations and transnational networks of other Malagasies in France, Europe and in Madagascar itself. Deeply connected to his Malagasy origins he imagines himself as a member of a transnational Malagasy community. At the same time, however, he remains reflexive and self-aware about the restrictions this affords, and challenges these by moving across these imposed boundaries. His is not a singular identification within a ghettoized community, but rather an activation of what to him are the best forms of being artistically creative and making a living through his music. Josielle R., by contrast, is a good example for someone who seems to be positioned at the other end of the transnational spectrum – someone with weak or non-existing community links who has fully integrated into the dominant culture of France. However, after more than 20 years in Europe during which she thought of Malagasies as strangers, she has gradually begun to re-acquire aspects of ethnic affiliation and a great love and curiosity about her country of origin. Initially her re-connecting with Madagascar is purely strategic, in the sense that it does afford her with transcultural capital for the networking required for her agency. She says at one point: ‘Le fait que je sois Malgache m’a servi’; ‘The fact that I am Malagasy has served me well’ However, she now regrets having lost some of the more advanced skills of speaking the Malagasy language. At some point she says that being Malagasy she understands how the Malagasies think, but she does not have the words to formulate what she wants to say beyond the conversational. Hence she now expresses a strong desire to relearn the language to full native-speaker competence. Despite their different biographies and own interpretations of what it means to be a Malagasy and the influence, direct and voluntary or


indirect and unplanned, that their Malagasy identity has had on their lives, both informants enjoy a relatively high share of what we have called transcultural capital. They have both been able to reinterpret their national identity of origin, their experiences in France, their individual life plans with particular reference to their artistic activities, their contacts with fellow nationals back home and in the country of settlement in different ways during the courses of their lives. In either case, the complex negotiation and interplay of all these elements, which may have happened consciously or unconsciously, have increased their possibilities to lead a meaningful life and achieve their personal and professional objectives. Examples such as these could be easily replicated, not only by using data from our work with Malagasies but also with some of those from the Maghreb and from Senegal that are not quoted here for mere reasons of space. Our findings about the fluidity and complexity of affiliations of immigrant artists raise important issues regarding the ways in which African or immigrant artists of African origin are often polarized by cultural institutions and music promoters as ethnic musicians or as players on the world scene Hence, the concept and reality of transcultural capital also raises important questions at the institutional level. Our research (see also Kiwan and Kosnick on Paris and Berlin, or Kosic and Triandafyllidou on Rome, in this volume) shows that local cultural policy neither fully recognizes nor supports the transcultural capital that immigrant artists possess. Kiwan and Kosnick argue that funding decisions by the Berlin and Paris cultural institutions introduce and/or confirm divisions between ‘high’ and ‘low’ or ‘social’ art thus channelling artistic life in the cities towards specific directions. The same happens in Rome where in the near complete absence of any institutional support immigrant artistic expression barely makes it to the surface. Where such support exists, it takes the form of benevolence and solidarity towards world cultures rather than a recognition that immigrants bring with them their own very special ‘capital’, their transcultural capital that natives do not possess. At the level of perceptions and prejudices, the research presented in this book (see also Böse, Busch, Dragićević Šešić in this volume) reveals that some of the more segregated cultural activities of, by and for ethnic minorities often arouse hostility and anxiety amongst (white) dominant culture. What our chapter can point to is a highly diverse flow of cultural energies which opens up a whole spectrum of engagement for artists and their audiences, where what appears to be singular is in fact a richly textured spectrum of possibilities of contemporary city life.


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Notes 1 Although diaspora nationalism refers both to ethnic minorities living abroad for many decades if not centuries (like the Jewish diaspora worldwide or the Hungarian diaspora in countries neighbouring Hungary, for instance), in this chapter we shall concentrate specifically on immigrant diasporas, populations that have migrated since a few years or a few decades to a new country for economic or political (or both) reasons. 2 See also section on cosmopolitanism below. 3 UM: alors tu te rappelles la première chanson que tu as écrite? Quand tu es arrivé ici? EM: c’est c’est dans ça quand je parle des chansons nostalgiques, c’est Tanavy, le pays d’où je viens, c’est horrible l’hiver … quand tu viens des pays du soleil comme ça, c’est horrible la première fois, moi j’ai, c’est à dire, à être devant la fenêtre et tu vois tout est gris … à l’intérieur, tu écoutes des chansons dansantes c’est c’est horrible, tu peux pas, t’es là comme ça, des moments tu dis ‘merde, qu’est-ce que je fous ici’ quand même, oui oui. UM: alors c’était vraiment le fait d’être déraciné qui était. EM: qui m’a poussé? UM: qui était vraiment l’inspiration pour écrire? EM: oui parce que pour nous, les Malgaches, chanter, ça reste toujours, mais on pense pas même maintenant que ce soit un métier et heureusement parce que c’est on le fait dans cette mentalité là, donc c’est ça qui m’a, c’est là quand je me suis senti vraiment déraciné que j’ai commencé à écrire et à composer mais pour moi, j’allais ajouter. Apres je me sens bien quoi, je sais pas comment dire. 4 UM: et c’était quand la première fois, que t’as pensé que ça va être un métier pour toi? EM: j’ai jamais pensé que ça pourrait être un métier et après plus tard, bon j’ai eu la chance de connaître Solo [another Malagasy musician], et c’est lui qui accompagnait G. à l’époque et il y avait Solo qui me proposait de, ‘si tu veux, tu peux accompagner G. professionnellement’ et même là je me suis dit, mais non, comment je peux faire, c’est pas facile de de … mais ça m’a aidé … après je me suis raciné, donc ici, effectivement c’est pas comme à Mada t’es quand même payé, t’es déclaré, payer les impôts et plein de choses donc ici, on peut dire c’est un boulot, mais le fait, même s’il y avait tout ça dans la tête moi je me suis encore resté, c’est pas un boulot et même si on paye, fiches de paye comme tout le monde, dans la tête, il y a ces contradictions, que j’arrive a, puis, finalement, effectivement, au fur au mesure pendant des années, petit à petit (je me suis racine). 5 EM: je me souviens quand tu étais chez moi, il y a longtemps parce qu’on est amis depuis longtemps et ‘tu caches tes Cds malgaches où toi?’ Il n’est pas le seul à faire la remarque parce que chez moi j’ai aucun Cd malgache et c’est vrai, demande-lui, même mes Cds à moi, j’en ai pas … en fait ce qui se passe, j’écoute la musique brésilienne, j’écoute la musique africaine ou autre. J’écoute pas de Cds malgaches. Par contre j’ai plein de casettes malgaches … que j’achète. là-bas. A chaque fois,

220 Beyond the Diaspora je ramène plein des cassettes, mais au quotidien, j’écoute la musique cubaine ou autre mais pourquoi quelque part je me retrouve, je me reconnais dans leur musique, quelque part et ça ça joue énormément dans ma démarche d’aller rencontrer d’autres musiques ou il y a qu’un seul truc que j’ai du mal encore, c’est la musique chinoise et j’arrive pas à me retrouver mais il y a quelque chose de malgache un peu, dans les musiques, comme ça, des flashs et c’est ça qui est vachement intéressant finalement je me dis, mince, effectivement le Malgache il vient de partout. Il y a quelque chose comme ça …

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Jordan, B. and Vogel, D. (1997) ‘Which policies influence migration decisions? A Comparative Analysis of Interviews with Undocumented Brazilian Immigrants’, in ‘London and Berlin’ Arbeitspapier, no. 14/97, Bremen Universitaet. Kivisto. P. (2001) ‘Theorizing transnational migration: A critical review of current efforts’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 24, no. 4: 549–77. Kosic, A. and Triandafyllidou, A. (2004) ‘The Micro-Processes of Migration: Immigration Policy, Practices of Implementation and Immigrant Survival Strategies in Italy’, International Migration Review, vol. 38, no. 4: 1413–46. Kosic, A. and Triandafyllidou, A. (2003) ‘Albanian Immigrants in Italy: Policy implementation, Coping Strategies and Identity Issues’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, vol. 29, no. 6: 997–1014. Meinhof, U.H. (2005) ‘Initiating a Public: Malagasy Music and Live Audiences in Differentiated Cultural Contexts’, in S. Livingstone (ed.), Audiences and Publics: When Cultural Engagement Matters for the Public Sphere. Bristol: Intellect Press. Meinhof, U.H. and Galasinski, D. (2005) The Language of Belonging. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Nagel, C.R. (2002) ‘Geopolitics by another name: Immigration and the politics of assimilation’, Political Geography, vol. 21, no. 8: 971–87. Portes, A. (1997) ‘Immigration Theory for a New Century’, International Migration Review, vol. 31, no. 4: 799–825. Portes, A., Guarnizo, L. and Landolt, P. (1999) ‘The Study of Transnational Communities: Pitfalls and Promise of an Emergent Field’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 2: 217–37. Putnam, R.D. (1993) Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy. Princeton, New York: Princeton University Press. Rasolofondraosolo, Z. and Meinhof, U.H. (2003) ‘Popular Malagasy Music and the Construction of Cultural Identities’, in S. Makoni and U.M. Meinhof (eds), Africa and Applied Linguistics, Aila Review, vol. 16: 127–48. Romaniszyn, K. (2003) ‘Migration, Cultural Diversification and Europeanisation’, in W. Spohn, and A. Triandafyllidou (eds), Europeanisation, National Identities and Migration. London: Routledge, pp. 99–120. Sanders, J., Nee, V. and Sernau, S. (2002) ‘Asian Immigrants’ reliance on Social Ties in a Multiethnic Labor Market’, Social Forces, vol. 81, no. 1: 281–314. Smith, R. (2003) ‘Diasporic Memberships in Historical Perspective: Comparative Insights from the Mexican, Italian and Polish Cases’, International Migration Review, vol. 37, no. 3: 724–60. Triandafyllidou, A. (2001) Immigrants and National Identity in Europe. London: Routledge. Yeoh, B., Willis, K.D. and Abdul Khader Fakhri, S.M. (2003) ‘Introduction: Transnationalism and its Edges’, in S.M. Abdul Khader Fakhri, K.D. Willis and B. Yeoh (eds.), ‘Transnational Edges’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 26 no. 2: 207–17. Vertovec, S. (1999) ‘Conceiving and research transnationalism’, Ethnic and Racial Studies, vol. 22, no. 2: 447–77. Vertovec, S. (2003) ‘Migration and Other Modes of Transnationalism: Towards Conceptual Cross-Fertilization’, International Migration Review, vol. 37, no. 3 (Fall): 641–66. Vertovec, S. (2004) ‘Migrant transnationalism and modes of transformation’, International Migration Review, vol. 38 no. 3: 970–1001.

222 Beyond the Diaspora Vogel, D. and Cyrus, N. (2005) ‘Managing Access to the German Labour Market. How Polish (Im-) Migrants Relate to German Opportunities and Restrictions’, in F. Duevell (ed.), Illegal Immigration in Europe: Beyond Control?. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Waldinger, R., Aldrich, H. and Ward, R. (1990) Ethnic Entrepreneurs. London: Sage. Wimmer, A. and Glick Schiller, N. (2003) ‘Methodological Nationalism, the Social Sciences, and the Study of Migration: An Essay in Historical Epistemology’, International Migration Review, vol. 37, no. 3: 576–610.

11 Three Nexal Registers: Identity, Peripheral Cultural Industries and Alternative Cultures Nikola Janović and Rastko Moˇcnik

The three groups of nexus-relevant cultural policy agents Processes and policies of neo-liberal globalization are presently providing the general frame for every conceivable cultural policy. This means that cultural policy agents first have to decide either to follow the mainstream, that is transforming the cultural domain into an important new niche for capital accumulation,1 or to oppose (or eventually to bypass) the prevailing tendency. The main agents of the first alternative are entertainment transnational companies. Those outside the mainstream controlled by the core transnational cultural oligopolies are, most prominently, peripheral cultural industries for whom culture certainly is just a domain of capital exploitation – but who have to activate various peripheral or marginal social dimensions in order to circumvent the stronger mainstream competition. On the other side, there are agents for whom culture is not just another continent to be colonized for capital gain, and also others who pretend to entertain such a culture-oriented attitude in order to safeguard their share of profits, a share they would not be able to retain on purely market terms. As a starting approximation, we will present cultural agents as distributed along two axes, the axis of their orientation and the axis of their structural position. To the rough directional distinction between ‘profit-oriented’ cultural industries and ‘culture-oriented’ productions, we will add the positional opposition between ‘mainstream’ and ‘marginal’ production (Figure 11.1). Cultural agents compete both with their peers who occupy the same position in this ad hoc scheme (global transnationals fight against each other, peripheral producers compete with other peripheral producers, and so on) as with those who are situated in other positions (global agents compete against their peripheral counterparts, global and 223

224 Three Nexal Registers Profit-oriented Mainstream (=dominant) Marginal (=subaltern)

Culture-oriented

GLOBAL OLIGOPOLIES

STATE-INTERVENTIONIST CULTURES

PERIPHERAL CULTURAL INDUSTRIES

ALTERNATIVE CULTURES

Figure 11.1 Cultural agents according to their orientation (profit/culture) and structural position (mainstream/marginal)

peripheral agents both try to squeeze out alternative agents, and so on). Every agent attempts to create a niche where it could secure a relative monopoly for itself. Such a niche is culturally constructed, underpinned by representations of a particular lifestyle, possesses its own cultural traditions, mythologies and heroes, has its own jargon, its shibboleths and so on. Creation of cultural niches is as much the product of cultural invention as it is of cultural parasitism. The two can hardly be distinguished, since commercial cultural invention mostly proceeds in the way of rearticulation of already existing cultural features found ‘in the field’. However, strategies of invention differ according to their aims: if a strategy aims at conquering a world market, it will build upon etiolated and abstract features and will try to maximize the extension of its potential targets; if, on the contrary, a strategy aims at a socially determined group (for example an age group), the patchwork of its cultural offer may be closer to the already existing features of the group, or more likely will stylize and further develop the traits of its cultural ideal-Ich. What we call ‘nexus’ in this volume is a social formation that particularly invites this kind of secondary elaboration. It is itself a source of continuous patchworking efforts that collate explicitly heterogeneous elements ranging widely both over space and time, and its cultural features are open towards further rearticulation.2 Into every cultural element that is brought within its orbit, the nexal cultural formation introduces a self-distancing mechanism precisely at the point of the usual native illusions. Global mainstream oligopolies mainly exploit the nexal phenomena within the standard strategies of niche-seeking for capital accumulation; that is, they do not specifically valorize their particular structure. Contrary to this delocalized exploitation of nexus cultures, some of the other agents inherently depend upon nexal flows and their effects, and actually constitute and reproduce themselves through practices that are detrimental to the nexus processes. These practices of supplementary

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elaboration upon already elaborated cultural material establish spaces where the three groups of agents that interest us in particular, either deploy explicitly stated policies or perform what could be considered as ‘spontaneous’, implicit policy-making. The three groups of agents that constitute themselves through specific practices working upon various aspects of the nexus complex, can be broadly described as follows: 1 The group of mainstream culture-oriented agents is composed of national operators – national governments, national cultural industries (in particular, cinematographic and audiovisual industries), institutions of ‘national culture’. With some exceptions, the cultural policies of the EU and the European Commission belong to this category. Agents of this group oppose global liberalization and deregulation of cultural markets principally in order to protect their national cultural industries from oligopolies that control the global market; secondly, they want to stop homogenization and destruction of ‘national’ cultures that result from monopolistic practices upon the free market. Although these agents have succeeded in preventing the unreserved surrender of cultural productions to the rule of capital at several confrontations, none of those occasions has been a true breaking point. Quite on the contrary, most European governments have adopted a more or less liberal attitude over recent decades.3 Such an attitude has also been strongly suggested by European bodies to post-socialist countries. From this national position, protection of cultures can only be conceived and practised as state intervention, and state meddling with the presumably natural life of the free market needing very strong arguments to be accepted by the spontaneous ideology of the agents themselves. Within this ideological horizon, valid arguments are either para-economic (for example they ground the need to protect culture from the free play of market mechanisms on the concern to safeguard the market itself): this argumentation will justify various anti-monopoly measures; or they simultaneously draw from economic and political liberalisms (freedom of enterprise is translated into freedom of creation; freedom of choice serves both sides); or, finally, they appeal to the very basics of the liberal political constitution (freedom of expression). Various appeals to rights are nowadays most often styled as claims for identity that seem to be the bottom-up perspective of what is understood by the top–bottom view as cultural diversity. Within the national perspective, nexal phenomena presently appear as questions of identity. The national

226 Three Nexal Registers

identity is presented as being threatened by the global flows, either by hegemonic pressures or by peripheral migrations. Identity of the diaspora outside the nation-state has to be nurtured, identities of minorities within the nation-state have to be safeguarded. 2 The marginal profit-oriented agents are peripheral commercial cultural producers and their apparatuses. In the effort to create their own markets, peripheral producers exploit the nexus cultural material and more generally the nexal social dimensions.4 Cultures that emanate from these productions valorize gigantic dislocations which brought millions from European peripheries, namely from South and South-East Europe, the Near East and Africa, into the heart of Europe during the second half of the twentieth century, reaffirming them as a new quality in the core-Europe and as creators of multiform and grassroots processes of the novel core–periphery global integration. These extremely pluralistic and richly structured cultures are genuine contributions of the European periphery to the processes and products of globalization. They render obsolete the classical simplistic conception of core–periphery relations, and impose the necessity of a structured view that will be able to substitute to the classical worldsystem perspective a novel concept of de-totalized nexal configurations. 3 The group of marginal culture-oriented agents is composed of various alternative cultural producers and audiences. They struggle in the intermundia of the contemporary cultural scene, practice as small businesses or masquerade as ‘socio-culture’ parasites on cultural diversity and minorities policies, evade regulations that favour transnational oligopolies or invent spaces not yet regulated by free-trade legislation. Common to all these alternative forms is their direct affirmation of the socialized character of the contemporary means of cultural production, and of the socially productive potential of contemporary communicational technologies able to create worldwide audiences without the mediation of private appropriation. In other words, alternative cultural practices suppress the separation between the individual and her or his sociality, they perform material liquidation of that Trennung, Scheidung, so typical of the nineteenth century and which made industrial capitalism possible. In this way, alternative practices directly confront and combat the endeavours of transnational capital to appropriate privately what has historically and materially already been socialized.5


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Policies of the first group seem to rely upon an obsolete political paradigm: in fact, they question the basic tenets of the present world hegemony, and trigger processes that may well bring about an alternative set of global solutions. The second group, on the one side, just linearly expands the logic of capitalist exploitation into the recently formed social spheres of global capitalism while, on the other side, it dramatically challenges the basic structural relations of contemporary capitalism, most explicitly the core–periphery hierarchies. Policies of the third group create alternative spaces of socialization and cultural production, while being simultaneously exposed to the pressures of economic marginalization and juridical criminalization by the powers-that-be on the one side, and to the processes of systemic recuperation and commercial exploitation, on the other. The nexus problématique is worked upon by all the three sets of processes, agents and policies. Policies of the national model impose an identitary straightjacket upon nexal processes and formations. Peripheral cultural industries are the most direct and impressive way through which nexal flows and processes are articulated under the presently prevailing logic of neo-liberal capitalism. And to the alternative cultural production, nexal flows are the most prominent necessary condition for creation and survival. In a later section, we will separately examine the logic of each of the three policy types. But let us first have a quick look at the world-historical conjuncture that provides the background to our policy analysis.

The socio-historical background The long shadow of ‘cultural exception’ still hovers over the debates on cultural policies. Now discarded from official use, the term had not been considered very auspicious even at the time of its emergence.6 Deficient as it may appear in political and juridical usages, the term nevertheless clearly indicates the circumstances in which it has been contrived: a situation of defensive struggle against uniform expansion of the freemarket arrangements across every sector of global society. Those who contend that culture should not be surrendered to the onslaught of neo-liberal globalization, have used, have indulged in, and have finally abused the formula according to which cultural goods and services are not commodities as others – a proposition that is either a tautology or a contradiction. It is a tautology within the relevant discourse universe, since according to the World Trade Organization regulations no category of commodities is, strictly speaking, reducible to any other one. While in


terms of social science, and for that matter of common sense, the slogan is a contradiction since all commodities are interchangeable precisely under the aspect of their being commodities. What could then be the rational core in the controversy that emerged with the refusal of certain parties (among whom, prominently, Canada, France and the EU) to submit cultural goods and services to the unrestricted rule of free market? An analogy may be instructive. With the privatization of pension systems (another category of social services presently being submitted to the mechanisms of the global free market), one commodifies a social relation – the relation among generations, classically analysed by Marcel Mauss under the concept of échange différé, delayed exchange (Mauss, 1985). In this way, the specific domain of relations among generations, traditionally regulated in various specific ways, is submitted to the general pattern of the commodity market, presumed to be the best model of coordination in any sphere of social practices. Commodification is just another type of social relation – the one that prevails in capitalism and the one considered, by the presently prevailing ideology, to be generally the most efficient type of social coordination. Karl Marx who analysed capitalism as a system of generalized commodity exchange, proposed a concept to designate the particular type of social relation which had emerged from the generalization of a commodity economy: the ‘commodity fetishism’ (Marx, 1962), defined as a ‘necessary illusion’ that makes relations among human beings assume the ‘phantasmagorical’ form of relations among things. Instead of contemplating her or his old age through the notional schemes entailed in the welfare systems of the social state, in other words instead of considering her or his future, and eventually acting upon it, in political terms – our person to-be-retired, after the pension reform, starts calculating her or his old age in terms of interest rates, revenue on capital investment, stock-exchange trends, etc., that is, in terms formerly reserved to the classical financial speculator (Husson, 1999). What does this democratization of haute finance jargon mean? It means that human beings no longer refer to their own lives politically, as members of some political association, be it as abstract as nations used to be – but as atomized individuals directly confronted with their commodified sociality abstracted in global value-processes. This means that their colleagues at work, their neighbours, friends, lovers, their own family appear to them, within their life-plan calculations (composed of precarious and discontinued short-range ‘projects’ (Boltanski and Chiapello, 1999)), as so many competitors in the struggle for re-appropriation of their sociality under the abstract form of appropriation of value. Substitution of the commodity-relation for the lost


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political social relation in this case means loss of any, be it illusionary, control over the atomized individual’s own existence (Caillé, 2005). Let us offer one more example of the same transformation. If, by appealing to the clause of ‘the most favoured nation’, a transnational company or a government acting in its interest, kills an advantage conferred by a national government to a company from a developing country, it dismantles a political intervention in South/North global relations: seemingly, by enforcing free-trade economy against political favouritism but, in fact, by mobilizing mechanisms of the present worldhegemony against the solidarity policies of an obsolete political power, the nation-state. While appearing to be the affirmation of the logic of economy against voluntarism of politics, this is a struggle of one type of social relations, the relations of global corporate domination, against another type, the relations of solidarity. While in the first case, class struggles (within the frame of the nationstate or on the world-systemic level) would be articulated as political confrontations and negotiations, they would be displaced towards some other form of social tension in the second case, which is our contemporary situation. The pension reform would then be promoted as a means to restore to an economy under national jurisdiction the ability to compete on the world market. The aid to a developing nation would be attacked as an unfair intervention into the mechanisms of the free market. What really hampers the success of a national economy would, in both cases, be defined as some socio-economic deficiency: unsuccessful or belated modernization in the developing country, incapacity of transition from industrial to post-industrial society in the case of the crumbling welfare state. The reasons for the incapacity of structural transformation would finally be sought in religious traditionalism, ethnic tensions, patriarchal family structures and other cultural features. Commodification of cultural practices and products is then an intervention designed to break down the obstructive mechanisms of an inadequate social order. It destroys one form of social cohesion, a form that the newly imposed social relations make obsolete and regressive, and replaces it by another form – the one that corresponds to contemporary world relations and fosters a particular country’s integration into the new world order. What remains of the old and discarded mechanisms of social cohesion can now be construed as cultural specificity that contributes to cultural diversity – and is made the object of juridical protection. We can now see the paradoxical outcome of these processes. What, at a first glance, seemed a ruthless occupation of the cultural sphere by the


economic sphere, what seemed to be the destruction of culture by the logic of commodification, actually establishes an autonomous cultural sphere as a collage, as a Sargasso Sea of free floating bits and pieces of what used to be mechanisms of social cohesion that had to yield under the onslaught of the free economy and its organized repression (the World Trade Organization, International Monetary Fund, World Bank, and so on). What really vanishes between the triumphant economy and the emerging cultural diversity is the political sphere. Consequently, it is not the suppression of the cultural sphere by the sphere of economy (or the threat that this may happen), as the advocates of cultural exception want us to believe, that is the most fascinating socio-structural event of our time. It is the disappearance of the political sphere – or, more precisely, its transformation into various branches of the ‘management’ of society. Political parties no longer represent social groups and their presumed interests, they are all together, as fractions of one and the same political apparatus, involved in the management of the whole of the society and, merging with administrative apparatuses and apparatuses of ‘governmentality’ (Foucault, 2004), they reproduce the effect of social totality. By a different path, the overall result of the presently dominating global trends, rejoins a situation that has been acutely described under a classical form of ‘totalitarianism’: in countries where a unique totalitarian party rules … such a party no more performs narrowly political functions, it carries out technical, propagandistic, police functions and functions of moral and cultural influence. The political function is indirect, for if there exist no other legal parties, there exist other effective parties and tendencies that elude laws with which they are in confrontation – and against which [the sole legal ruling party] struggles as if playing at blind man’s buff. It is certain that with such parties [the unacknowledged effective parties] cultural functions dominate and that they produce the emergence of a particular political jargon: political questions are now hidden under a cultural disguise, and become as such insoluble. (Gramsci, 1996, translation by the authors) To suit the present liberal project, this description of the fascist state needs to be amended at only one point: culturalization7 of political questions is not a forced, if inadequate, response of political forces that are denied legal existence – it is induced by the very transformation of the legal political apparatus itself (Buden, 2002; Kuzmanić, 2002). And


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hence it is productive (and not, as Gramsci contends, an only sterile disguise): it is productive up to the point that certain states themselves (or entities that are considered as such) can presently exist as merely cultural constructions.8

The state and the attempt to reduce nexus by the mechanism of identity We will first illustrate the problem of the relation between nexal processes and the state by a symptomatic historical case: the case of the ‘immigrants’ from other former republics of Yugoslavia in the Republic of Slovenia.9 Those immigrants10 who are not citizens, are subject to state violence;11 while those immigrants who are citizens, are the object of state protection and special care. The field of the regulation of the nexus processes seems to stretch between the two poles of state violence and governmental care. The juridical and political paradox is complemented by a sociological contradiction: research finds these individuals both more isolated and better integrated into solidarity-nets.12 Sociological contradiction reveals what the juridical-political paradox reduces: immigrants are isolated, because they are excluded from the prevailing social relations produced and reproduced by the majority population; as a consequence, they establish alternative networks of integration. Immigrant citizens are the object of special state care precisely because the state is obliged to counter their social exclusion – and because the state cannot but attempt to annex, to recuperate, to colonize alternative modes of social integration that might be escaping its control. So why does the state exercise violence against non-citizen immigrants? The obvious answer: because it is under no obligation vis-à-vis them, but still wants to break down alternative integration is insufficient, although not completely false. With the help of a dichotomy introduced by Foucault (1991), we could say that citizen-‘immigrants’ are adopted by apparatuses of governmentality, while non-citizen-‘immigrants’ come under the blow of sovereignty. In other words, particular features of the citizen-‘immigrants’ can be construed so as to fit into the universalist frame of the Law – while the same features make non-citizen-‘immigrants’ literal outlaws. The element that makes the difference obviously is citizenship: however, individuals are citizens as abstract individuals, as abstracted from any personal circumstance, including the particular features that make citizen-‘immigrants’ ‘vulnerable’, as they are usually described in policy documents. But everything indicates that it is precisely this appeal


to an abstract universality that mobilizes particularist dispositions of governmentality apparatuses – while in the absence of the possibility to appeal to a universalist instance, individuals remain confronted with the instance of abstract equality as its defenceless victims. By the appeal to a universal instance, a particular case precisely is made a case, and, as such, is particularized. Through this operation, a discourse succeeds to make itself a particular case within another discourse, which it recognizes as superior and eventually as universal. For the operation to be completed, the discourse that subordinates itself still needs the sanction or the recognition of the superior discourse, that is, of its institutionalized speaker. If the producer of the discourse of self-submission is a citizen, then the recognition of her or his discourse as legitimately embedded into the universalist discourse (of the state) is granted by her or his citizen-status. If the producer is not a citizen, then this recognition by the superior instance may be granted (precisely in the name of the universality of the superior discourse); however, this recognition is not automatic – and may be withdrawn. It has so far been withdrawn to non-citizen-‘immigrants’ in our historical case for two reasons that pertain to the logic we have briefly sketched above. The first reason is that, in the case of the ‘erased’, the hierarchical effect of submission has not been achieved. The second reason is that, as the hierarchy does not work, the discourse of the victims cannot claim the patronage of a universalist instance. It reveals its structure to be one of a subordinated discourse searching in vain to be recognized by a superior instance – and, what is more, defining itself as a discourse on the same level and in opposition to the ‘immigrants’ discourse. The non-citizen-‘immigrant’ discourse is in this way revealed as the specific exception to the discourse of the failed universality – and, as a consequence, falls under the coup of ‘sovereignty’ in the strict Schmittian sense (Schmitt, 1992). When the self-submission to a presumed universality succeeds, the particularity of the subordinated discourse is articulated as identity, and is in this way culturalized. Culturalization is how an eventual excess of sociality is tamed, controlled, reduced. When the operation fails, the excess cannot be mastered – it has to be made illegal, by illegitimate force, if necessary.13 For a contemporary state, nexus phenomena necessarily appear as an excess of sociality. They can be tamed if they are caught in mechanisms of identity, that is if they are culturalized. In this case, identity groups may become objects of governmental care and may start reproducing themselves through the consummation of their human rights. In the


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contrary case, the state has no other option but to resort to its sovereign violence. The contemporary state deals with the nexal phenomena according to the logic of identity: that is, according to the very pattern of its own constitution which is, de facto, the sovereignty of the ethnic majority.14 This treatment disqualifies the contemporary identity state as a possible bearer of a universalist discourse within the frame of which it is only able to constitute itself – as well as to accommodate other identitary communities. This incapacity of the contemporary state to be the bearer of the universalist ideological framework within which it constitutes itself, has two major consequences. First, its own political, juridical and even social constitution will depend upon the recognition by an external instance that represents the universalist frame. In the absence of appropriate international regulations, such a representative instance will be determined by sheer military and, eventually, economic force. In the absence of an appropriate institutional support, the contemporary appeal to juridical and protojuridical principles (human and other rights) actually breeds recourse to violence in inter-statal relations. The second consequence is related to the way how such a state will treat its nexal phenomena. As we have already remarked, the options vary between state violence (closure of borders, forced expulsions, temporary arrangements under close surveillance, and so on) and governmental care (minority rights, cultural autonomy, cultural diversity, for example). The actual outcome will ultimately depend upon the capacity of the state to contain the nexal phenomena within the power of its governmentality apparatuses. In the case to the contrary, it will have to resort to étatist measures, that is to state violence. The mechanism of identity-formation can be formalized,15 to show both: (a) the ideological core-mechanism of the formation of identitary (minority) communities; and (b) the mechanism that transforms the social support of a state (that used to be the ‘nation’) into an identitary (majority) community. (1) Albanians are fighting against the mono-ethnic Macedonian state which excludes their participation in its structures. (Arbën Xhaferi, Chairman of the Democratic Party of Albanians, at the time vice-Prime Minister of the Macedonian government, as quoted in Delo, Ljubljana, 20 March 2001)


The speaker of (1) starts by speaking an authoritative enunciator EA1 who evokes a topos of authority TA [P: the more a state is mono-ethnic → Q: the more it is licit to evoke with reference to it the topos TN]. TN is a subordinated or a ‘native’ topos that can only be evoked if it is sanctioned by a superior discourse, a discourse of authority to which TA belongs. The discourse here represented by TN is the one that seeks to be ‘recognized’, that is, it struggles for its submission to be acknowledged by the discourse to which it is submitting itself. To stand a chance of recognition, the subaltern discourse has first to ‘go native’, namely, it has to ‘culturalize’ itself. In the same act in which the authoritative enunciator EA1 evokes the topos TA, s/he also actualizes its first part on the particular case of the state of Macedonia. As a consequence, another authoritative enunciator EA2 draws the conclusion: ‘Therefore: it is licit to evoke with reference to the state of Macedonia, the topos TN.’ An enunciator EN1 then evokes the topos TN and actualizes its argument on the particular case of ‘we, the Albanians’: ‘TN [R: the more one is an allo-ethnic community in a mono-ethnic state → S: the more one is justified to fight the discrimination] and we, the Albanians, are an allo-ethnic community in the mono-ethnic state of Macedonia.’ Finally, an enunciator EN1 with whom the speaker identifies, draws the conclusion: ‘Therefore: we, the Albanians, are justified to fight discrimination.’ Or, more graphically: The background topos of authority: TA [P: the more a state is mono-ethnic → Q: the more it is licit to evoke with reference to it the topos TN].16 1 The authoritative argument: evocation of TA and its application to the case of the Macedonian state: ‘TA [P: the more a state is mono-ethnic → Q: the more it is licit to evoke with reference to it the topos TN] and Macedonia is a mono-ethnic state.’ 2 The authoritative conclusion: ‘Therefore: Q of T applies to the Macedonian state’. Or: ‘Therefore: it is licit to evoke with reference to the state of Macedonia, the topos TN.’ The native background topos: TN [R: the more one is an allo-ethnic community in a mono-ethnic state → S: the more one is justified to fight the discrimination]. 3 The native argument: evocation of TA and its application to the case of ‘we, the Albanians’: ‘TN [R: the more one is an allo-ethnic community


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in a mono-ethnic state → S: the more one is justified to fight the discrimination] and we, the Albanians, are an allo-ethnic community in the mono-ethnic state of Macedonia.’ 4 The native conclusion: ‘Therefore: we, the Albanians, are justified to fight discrimination.’ This is illustrated schematically in Figure 11.2. The consequences of the argumentation in the quadrangle is not spelled out: this makes the native particular conclusion all the more convincingly follow from the authoritative universal premise. The following analysis will show that the discourse of the contemporary identitary state has a structure that is analogous to the subaltern identitary discourse: (2) This is the choice between Europe and the Balkans. (Janez Drnovšek, Prime-Minister of Slovenia, Dnevnik, Ljubljana, 3 June 1995) (2) only states the first premise of an argumentation – and still it leads to an inevitable conclusion, indeed to the conclusion that there is no choice. It belongs to a subaltern discourse that situates itself within another discourse, the discourse of authority. Within the discourse of authority, the terms ‘Europe’ and ‘the Balkans’ are presented as forming a quasi-lexical opposition of the ‘+/−’ type. As a consequence, (2) presents as evident, as quasi-lexically obvious, that the dilemma Europe vs the Balkans, being a dilemma of the ‘+/−’ type, is a false dilemma. The argumentation proper can be presented as follows:

TA [Px

TN with reference to x]

TN [Ry

Sy]

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------EA1 TA and Pa

EA2 Therefore:

EN1 TN and R we EN 2 Therefore: S we

Figure 11.2 Argumentation procedure in the utterance


EA1: TA [the more a dilemma is a false dilemma → the more one should resort to the topos TN] and ‘Europe or the Balkans’ is a false dilemma. EA2: Therefore: one should resort to the topos TN. EN1: TN [the more one recognizes her/himself in x → the less one makes of ‘x or non-x’ the object of a choice] and we recognize ourselves in Europe. EN2: Therefore: for us, ‘Europe or non-Europe’ is not an object of choice. The sense of (2) is not so much that, when having to choose between Europe and the Balkans, one has no choice – but rather that it is by refusing this dilemma that one proves oneself to be a good European. What makes (2) particularly irrefutable is the possibility to insert, instead of TN, its converse topical form17 – and to arrive at the same conclusion. Transforming TN into its converse topical form TF” (–P → –Q), one obtains the following argumentation: EA1: TA [the more a dilemma is a false dilemma → the more one should resort to the topos TN] and ‘Europe or the Balkans’ is a false dilemma. EA2: Therefore: one should resort to the topos TN. EN1: TN [the less one recognizes her/himself in y → the less one makes of ‘y or non-y’ the object of a choice] and we do not recognize ourselves in the Balkans. EN2: Therefore: for us, ‘Balkans or non-Balkans’ is not an object of choice. The choice, which is actually proposed by (2), is consequently the choice between ‘Euro-philia’ and ‘Balkano-phobia’, that is, between two variants of identitary recognition within the horizon of the hegemonic discourse organized by the opposition ‘Europe + vs the Balkans –’. However, whatever one chooses, one always ends up with the same choice, the choice of ‘Europe’.

Peripheral cultural industries and the nexus as their social support One can certainly not envisage the possibility of peripheral cultural industries without the support of nexuses. As the nexus is a global reality,


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it should not only be envisaged as a geopolitical space; for example, as the ‘routes’ along which people from Italy or Greece or Turkey or Yugoslavia have been expanding across Europe. It should rather be conceived as a socio-structural phenomenon; namely, as an overlapping, heterogeneous and ‘deep’ network of migrations and exchanges, cultural flows that certainly are locally overdetermined but which essentially pertain to the vagaries of the capitalist world-system. Between the view that embraces the short-term episodic time of migration, settlement, return and the sub-continental geopolitical space of cities, countries and regions, on the one side – and, on the other side, the ‘longue durée’ structural time of the world-systemic space, one feels that a medium category should be inserted. This ‘conjunctural’ medium scope would catch cyclical rhythms of the global system – how first people from the South migrated to the North, how this flow has flourished and then receded, how later the East opened up for migration flows with the West, and the like phenomena pertaining to the ups and downs of the cyclical movement of global capitalism. Having adopted this layered epistemic model of TimeSpace realities (Wallerstein, 1995), we can start to develop the concept of nexus as a phenomenon that can most suitably be studied in the conjunctural ‘cyclical TimeSpace’ and in the systemic ‘structural TimeSpace’. Peripheral cultural industries, being vitally dependent on the social reality of the nexus, produce their goods in a much closer and more intensive relation with their audiences than, for instance, global entertainment industries of the Hollywood type with their abstract stereotypization and homogenization. This distinctive feature seems particularly salient on two characteristic points: in the literary dimension of the neo-folk songs, and in the specific dialectic between peripheral cultural industries and their nexus social context. In transformations of the genre-grid of the literary component of the neofolk songs, one literary can read the socio-structural and ideological transformations of their audiences. As to peripheral cultural industries, the commodification they promote does not trigger the homogenizing effects so typical of the mainstream entertainment industries. Social dialectics here seems much more complex: on the one side, imposed upon the nexus for purely commercial reasons, neo-folk has colonized its cultural, ideological and mental spaces to the point to become by far its most important cultural dimension; on the other hand, though, nexus definitely transforms the immediate output of the industry, in a way that transcends simple effects familiar to the sociology of reception.


From local ‘neo-folk’ to peripheral cultural industry: transformation of genres We will first shortly examine the genre-grid transformation in the neoˇ folk songs in south-Slav dialects. In 1986, Ivan Colovi´ c reported two types of professional classifications, and added a classification of his ˇ own based on dominant thematic and linguistic features (Colovi´ c, 2000). One of the professional classifications distributed songs according to the criterion of the regional features of melody and speech into several ‘melos’ – Bosnian, Montenegrin, Šumadian, south-Serbian, eastSerbian and so on. The other professional classification distinguished songs according to their events for which they were intended: wedding, birthday, soldier or gastarbeiter songs. These categories no longer apply. The neo-folk universe is no longer organized by the folkloristic coordinates of traditional regions and of the life-cycle. They are now individualcentred and participate in the pervading Petrarchism of modern lyrics.18 Linguistic localisms are now used for expressive, not for classificatory purposes. Musical mannerisms are now pooled together from a geographically much larger area, and are in no way limited to traditional ‘folk’ sources. A revolutionary transformation was triggered by the advent of the video-clip – since now the texts are completed or contrasted with the image, and have almost spontaneously adopted the suggestive, insinuating, associative, discontinuous style of the video-montage. Under the criterion of thematic and literary characteristics, Ivan ˇ Colovi´ c distinguishes three main genres: rustic songs, mahala-garden songs and café songs; he adds urban-ambient songs where the city is not opposed to the village, but to abstract idealized nature. With the exception of the eternal café song, none of these genres exists any more in the ˇ form in which Colovi´ c analysed them in 1985. The contours are now much more blurred, the textual component is now tightly integrated in the musical texture, and eventually retroactively overdetermined by the video, when there is one. The urban ambient is practically omnipresent, and does not really provide the basis of a genre, but rather a neutralized background for genre-specification. Former genre-features are now rather used as a raw material to be further elaborated by various ‘inter-discursive’ operations.19 For example, the gastarbeiter theme of coming back home is twisted so as to explicitly convey that no return is possible any more.20 Another familiar traditional theme – going into the ‘white world’ – is no longer deployed along the axis (home) village–(foreign) city, but


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presents the emancipating anabasis from oppressive industrial labour to freelancing in the entertainment industry.21 From this short overview, we shall retain the reflexive turn – the mode of production in which own past formulations are used as a raw material for new elaboration which fundamentally transforms former paradigms. This treatment is by no means reserved to the elements of the own past. It seems to be the most important procedure that helps peripheral cultural industries productively to confront its specific exterior. This procedure certainly resembles the familiar parasitism and recuperative practices of the mainstream entertainment industries. Still, it seems to be closer to the transformational operations of the contemporary visual arts. In this sense one could say that as contemporary arts in many ways carry on the tradition of experimentation and critical thought that is disappearing from most areas of contemporary life, so do peripheral cultural industries, as a matter of survival, continue the authentic aesthetic procedure of secondary elaboration of the spontaneous cultural, that is, ideological material. In this sense, one should grant them at least a minimal critical and emancipating potential.

The nexus as camera obscura Our reflection upon the socially productive effects of the nexus starts from an intuitive observation that, in certain cases, the nexus works as an operator of inversion. Certain cultural genres, and quite dramatically the ‘turbo folk’ music, seem to change their social character when moving from the country of their origin to other countries. The very use of an expression like ‘origin’ in this connection indicates a theoretical insufficiency. As it may be expected, this music and the culture that develops around it, have the status of a ‘low’ culture in opposition to the ‘high’ culture. More surprisingly, and also more relevantly, the newly composed folk music and its presumed sub-category turbo folk, are, in their home countries regularly an object of strong negative emotional reactions by the amateurs of certain (‘alternative’) other genres of the ‘low’, or ‘mass’ or ‘industrial’, cultural forms. When displaced, though, the newly composed music, while firmly asserting its grip upon its standard audience, recruits, in addition, new fans from the very groups whose socio-cultural parameters (class and ‘taste’) would classify them among its opponents in the home countries. This phenomenon of inversion can be expressed in purely musical terms: while, in the ‘home’ country, newly composed folk is incompatible with the alternative musical genres, this is not the case when it


operates under the nexus conditions. We should immediately add two caveats. On the one side, we should dispense with the terms such as ‘home’, ‘native’ and the like; in the sequel, we will try to develop a frame which could explain the ‘native’-effect. On the other side, we should be wary not to ascribe any automatic consequences to the nexus situation. We will assume that the nexus context only offers a possibility which, to become reality, needs the intervention of some other factor still to be defined. Two further field observations seem to indicate where to look for the supplementary condition. One is the popularity of the Balkan music at the alternative locations or, more generally, within the context of sociopolitically oriented or committed art/culture. The other is the observation that phenomena of multiculturalism, syncretism and so on most often emerge (or even exclusively happen) within the so-called ‘low’ cultures. Since the two oppositions – high vs low and arts-oriented vs sociopolitically committed – do not really coincide, we need to enrich our scheme. The needed complication of the scheme seems to be provided by a further observation that has imposed itself during our field research: it is the socially committed or, for the lack of a better word, civic22 cultural practices and the commercial cultural production that practice and promote ‘trans-’ or ‘multi-culturality’. Although opposed in many ways, ‘civic’ (or ‘socially committed’) and ‘commercial’ cultural practices fall together under this particular aspect. To account for this analogy in the socio-cultural impact of the two otherwise opposed cultures, we will first collate the two oppositions high/low and civic/commercial, by classifying civic and commercial together under the ‘low’ culture. As a second step in schematising, we will connect the two opposed levels of high and low cultures by conceiving the commercial ‘low’ culture as a projection of the arts-oriented ‘high’ cultural practices upon the ‘lower’ level. And, in fact, commercial mass-production can be regarded as doubly articulated: on the one side, it is a ‘low’ version of the dominant ‘high’ culture – while, on the other side, as a type of the ‘low’ production, it is opposed as populist to the ‘civic-committed-politicized’ popular production (Figure 11.3). Under the domination of the canonical or normative aesthetics, practices that enact it and products that embody it are considered to be ‘artistic’. Consequently, arts-oriented cultural production is considered to be high, and is opposed to the low types of production. While the high culture is (to a certain degree still) intimately linked to the state, and acts as its agent in civil society through various ideological state-apparatuses,


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HIGH ......................................................... LOW Arts-oriented

COMMERCIAL ........................ ALTERNATIVE Populist

Popular

Figure 11.3 Typology of cultural production

both commercial and civic cultural productions are firmly situated within civil society: they are free productions/consumptions of concrete individuals caught within concrete and heterogeneous ‘real’ social relations. Within the ‘low’ cultures of the civil society, a class-struggle is being fought between the dominant (mainstream) cultural production represented by the commercial sphere, and the subaltern practices of the civic, socially committed and politicized cultures. As ‘commercial’ and ‘civic’ are extrinsic categories, we will reformulate the opposition within the ‘low’ cultural sphere in intrinsic terms. Since our material is music, the distinctive criterion should be purely musical. One of the features of the ‘low’ cultures in general is their capacity to incorporate, or maybe even their propensity to import, patterns from other genres, types, formulations. The selection of the imported elements can accordingly indicate where to locate a particular musical practice. Certain practices will import elements from the dominant aesthetic canon, for example, from the bel canto tradition: in this case, the result is pop-music in the manner of a Severina.23 Others will prefer to incorporate elements from the globally dominant musical industries, such as disco or techno music: the result will be turbo folk à la Jelena Karleuša.24 In both those cases, the operation would be the projection of a dominant aesthetics onto the sphere of subaltern cultural production. Alternatively, a ‘low’ or subaltern production can import elements from the jazz tradition, as Šaban Bajramović25 now does: since jazz can be styled as itself originating in cultural practices of resistance, such an import would situate the subaltern practice on the ‘socially responsible’ or ‘civic’ or ‘alternative’ side of the ‘low’ culture. A direct transfer of a dominant pattern upon the level of the ‘low’ culture thus yields a commercial or populist product (sweet pop or turbo-folk). On the other hand, transactions among subaltern, resistant and other formulations result in popular or ‘socially responsible’ music.


The opposition between the two poles of low cultures arises from their opposed relations to high culture. In other words, ‘low’ cultural practices are the scene of a cultural class struggle between the dominant canon and other types of aesthetics, under the domination of the dominant types of aesthetics. Combining the ‘high // low–populist / popular’ scheme with our previous schematization of cultural production according to the coordinates of orientation (culture- or profit-oriented) and domination (dominant or subaltern), we get a more suggestive scheme, into which we can easily add vectors of exchange: one-way exchange is parasitic, while two-way exchange is reciprocal. ‘High’ cultural production is the dominant culture-oriented production that relies upon the state-intervention; ‘low’ cultural productions are further distinguished between the dominant profit-oriented global entertainment industries, and the subaltern culture-oriented alternative production and the equally subaltern profit-oriented peripheral cultural industries (Figure 11.4). The two populist formulations, the dominant global pop and the subaltern peripheral turbo, relate to two different kinds of dominant aesthetics: pop is parasitic upon the ‘traditional high’ (or should we say ‘bourgeois’?) aesthetics, while turbo draws on aesthetic resources of contemporary dominant global music industry. The two aesthetic ideologies belong to two different types of domination: the traditional one is secured by the ideological apparatuses of the state – while the contemporary one results from electronic technologies as articulated within the structures of neo-liberal global domination. It follows that Culture-oriented

Profit-oriented

HIGH ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... LOW

Dominant

Parasitism GLOBAL

– Parasitism –

Subaltern

ALTERNATIVE

– Reciprocity –

Figure 11.4 Relations among types of cultural production

PERIPHERAL


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the turbo, as a fusion of global electronic serial stereotypes and repetitive formulas of the local musical craftsmanship, is the authentic aesthetics of peripheral globalization. Since turbo is an aesthetisation, it is a form of reconciliation: it reconciles or ‘totalizes’, in an aesthetic whole, what, by itself, is a contradiction in itself : the relation of domination/subjection, a relation which cannot have the same aspect if looked upon from the side of domination or from the side of subjection. And yet, turbo not only offers a unified vision of this relation – it produces this reconciled unity and wholeness in a process of constructive fusion of the dominating and the dominated patterns. To the produced aesthetic whole, the dominated elements bring authenticity, while the dominating element contributes productive competence: the heart and the machine fuse in one and the same effusion. It seems utterly impossible that such an aesthetic could in any way be turned towards a subversive efficacy. And yet, one can see that the further one goes from the Balkans, the more the nexus affirms itself, the more the Balkan music in general, and also specifically its turbo variant, work in an emancipating mode. To begin with, Balkan music in the nexus context forms a part of the non-official cultural scene and hence can be understood as a sort of ‘rebel’ culture, besides the reggae and similar kinds of ‘politically incorrect’ music. But this is only an indication, and not yet an explanation. Since the same music seems to function in exactly the opposite way in, say, Belgrade, one should be careful not mechanically to ascribe its capacity to assume an emancipating character to its intrinsic properties. On the other hand, though, it seems impossible to reflect upon the turbo in total abstraction from its immanent features. It even seems that the turbo depends upon its immanence in some strong sense of the expression. For, with turbo, it is not the syncretism that is specific – this is quite a general feature in contemporary musical production. What is specific to turbo is that here, syncretism has produced a new genre. A commonsensical explanation would assume that this is the result of a strong folk-core around which crystallize the imported elements. This, indeed, is the way its critics classify turbo music: as a perverted sub-genre of the degenerate newly composed folk music. This may actually be how its split audiences, its highbrow critics and its lowbrow amateurs, in Belgrade hear it: unaware that they are listening to a genre in its own right. However, this complicity between the critics and the admirers may direct us towards an eventual structural trap operating in the situation where turbo functions as the ‘opium for the people’.


Most importantly, the folk-core in the turbo is a myth. Elements that function as folkloristic are themselves both syncretic and imported. One can easily notice a progressive tendency towards self-exotisation with Orientalist elements mostly taken from the Turkish music industry, which, in turn, is exploiting Central Asian, Middle-Eastern and NorthAfrican sources. But this process in the turbo occurs simultaneously with the opposite process of the increasing import from the global mainstream music industry. The pivotal axis around which the turbo is structuring itself seems to be the opposition ‘global vs local’, where ‘global’ is the dominating mainstream entertainment industry, and ‘local’ is conceived in a wide meaning covering the East and the South of Mediterranean. Given the powerful presence of North African, that is, South Mediterranean, music in France and, actually, elsewhere in Europe, it does not make much sense to speak exclusively in geographical terms. We should adduce social criteria. One could then say that the turbo belongs to a musical genre of the oppressed and exploited classes of the three continents surrounding the Mediterranean basin. Hence its utter ambivalence. We can now abandon our initial supposition that it must be the reception that makes the Balkan music rebellious. Reception can make it either way – and its structure (as par excellence epitomized by the turbo) is such as to lend itself to contradictory appropriations. The decisive element seems to be the reception context. Individuals typically listen to different types of music, and different such ‘choice-packages’ define different types of audiences. The ‘package’ is a category of taste of culture, while the audience is a social category: together, they contribute to the making of a socio-cultural map. If a certain type of music tends to be embedded in a certain type of ‘choice-package’, then it will sooner or later establish a privileged link to a certain type of audience, the one defined by the ‘package’, by the scope of its preferred types of music. The more bi-univocal this link will be, the stronger will be the social connotation of the musical type in question, and the more it will effectively contribute, as a cultural practice, to the production and reproduction of its audience as a social group. This seems to be the trap that makes for the specific interpretation of the Balkan music in Belgrade, that is outside the strictly nexus context: its audience has a narrow and rigid scope of cultural choice, mostly satisfying themselves with the newly composed folk. Correlatively, this audience is strongly defined as a social group by other, social, parameters, independent from their cultural profile as such: low income, labour-intensive employment in branches in crisis, settled in smaller


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towns and cities or in satellite conglomerations of large urban agglomerates. Being segregated from the ‘high’ culture in many ways (low education, economic, symbolic and even physical obstacles to participation), this audience is confined to their narrow and rigid cultural ‘choices’ – which, in turn, increases its social isolation as a group. We notice the familiar pattern of a self-enhancing socio-cultural vicious circle.26 In this specific reception context, oppressively reproduced by social tensions, listeners are necessarily deaf for most of the play of syncretism, and spontaneously naturalize what they hear. They anchor their perception by what sounds familiar – that is, by the elements belonging to their scanty choice-package. The local subaltern aesthetics, or what is perceived as such, start operating as a ‘native’ dimension, since they serve as a mediator to digest the global sound of electronic aesthetics, and to learn how to enjoy it. The result is a joyful voluntary servitude. In a nexus situation, groups with the same social characteristics are subjected to different types of social and cultural pressures. Even if their choice-package remains literally the same (that is, has the same contents and is equally narrow), it is de-territorialized and, as a consequence, de-naturalized. Even if the folk-audience clings to their original, identitary choice-package, this package is forcefully contextualized. Even if the audience actively rejects the new context (which actually is not frequent), negative contextualisation still remains (and operates as) contextualization. Although the majority population usually perceives immigrant groups as isolated, their isolation needs strong qualification. To the very extent that they are an object of segregation and discrimination, they are forced to form supplementary social links and most often to reach beyond the group of their immediate fellows by kin, region of emigration, or ‘ethnicity’. With time, and certainly with the second generation, these networks, which, originally, may have just been a forced supplementation to a withdrawn sociality, become a surplus of social capital. By the same process, different choice-packages are drawn into contact, and formation of idiosyncratic cultural isolates is not at all possible. Conversely, even to hypothesize the existence of an audience with an exclusively ‘MTV choice-package’, the nexus situation would affect them so as to open a possibility for them to appreciate the emancipating potential of ‘folk’ music. (Whether this possibility is actualized is a matter of a further – political? – choice.) For such an audience, the mainstream pop and electronic sound would be familiar and normalized, and could serve as a guide to the unfamiliar folk-sound. It is via


the global aesthetic that such a nexus audience learns to appreciate a distant local pattern. The result is that the distant local sound forces its way through the barrier of the oppressive global tumult of domination. The effect is one of solidarity with a distant resisting humanity. In both limit-cases, the nexus works as an operator of ideological inversion, and of aesthetic transformation. If the ideological inversion is symmetrical and somewhat flat, this is not the case of the aesthetic dimension proper. In the case of the MTV audience, the nexus inversion challenges the normalized sound, and eventually makes it strange, performing a genuine Verfremdungseffekt: in this way, it introduces an internal distance within the ideology of domination. In the case of the folk-audience, the ‘native’ aesthetics can no more function in a naïve, falsely authenticist way in a nexus situation: it can only function as what undermines the normality of domination, that is, as something not-close, not-familiar, as something ‘strange’. Between the two kinds of estrangement, the specific emancipating effect of the de-territorialized turbo occurs: a genuine artistic effect, if anything of the sort, is still possible nowadays.

Alternative cultures We can epitomize alternative cultural production by the practices of ‘squatting’: alternative cultures are metaphorical ‘squatters’ in contemporary society – and are often literary squatters in contemporary metropolises. The squats are among the most innovative and propulsive cultural agents. This is true about alternative cultural agents in general, but the squats enjoy definite independence from financial sources and authorities. Being without a future, they do not have to care about good relations with the sources of financing, and do not have to flatter the authorities. Relations with artists and other performers rely upon common ideological horizon, and are to a large extent extraeconomically motivated. This is a fortiori true for their nexus-related activities, not only because the Balkans themselves often resemble a gigantic squat – but also because of the serious obstacles better regulated approaches are likely to encounter when dealing with the Balkans. Upon the squat scene, nexus works in both directions. This is how one of the participating Ljubljana alternative artists puts it: ‘When we go abroad, we go to the Balkans. The scene there is not as commercialized as elsewhere in Europe, and people there still listen to each other.’27 This particular area of cultural life mostly relies on personal


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connections: not only on the production side (aesthetic affinities, the logic of the Maussian gift, reciprocal exchange ‘in kind’, specific management and organizational styles), but also on the side of audiences (the events are advertised through informal social channels, financial participation of the audience is often ‘according to one’s capacities’, and so on). As a consequence, it is within this ‘margin of the margin’ that the presence of groups with nexus-connections has the most powerful cultural impact. Since the alternative seems to be the only domain of cultural practices that consciously, directly and often programmatically confront the present historical situation, we now need to come back to the general socio-historical considerations. The process of commodification of all spheres of society, including ‘culture’, is an old motive of social critique, and has particularly been developed within the anti-capitalist critical tradition, and here especially in the Marxist tradition. The absence of confrontation with this critical tradition in contemporary cultural policy debates is rather fascinating.28 In the light of this tradition, concerns with quality, quantity, and access seem rather naïve, since these questions have already been resolved by the commodification of culture. Towards the mid-1960s, it had generally been accepted that commodification in the sphere of culture marginalized concerns with quality and introduced an urge towards quantity, that it prefered quantitative comparability to qualitative distinctness, homogenized cultural production and made it a mass-production. Cultural critics then maintained that capitalism is, by its very nature, hostile to the authentic immanence of the immediate life-experience of which culture has traditionally been the defender and promoter. At that early point, and before the sophistication introduced by structuralism and its ‘post-’, debates were not, and could not be, about ‘quality, quantity, and accessibility’ – since those issues have already been resolved, even without having been posed as ‘questions’, by the market-automatism as, according to theoretical consensus of the epoch, the general form of capitalist class-domination. The debate, at the time, was rather about the nature of this class-domination, and, as a consequence, about the strategy to adopt to oppose it. The two limit-positions which defined the horizon of the debate were, roughly speaking, the theory of ‘reification’ (Goldmann, 1959) and the ‘society of spectacle’ (Debord, 1992) position. For the reification-theory, progressive commodification of all the spheres of society is the work of the systemic logic of capitalism which progressively imposes its criterion of social valorization of labour, first triumphant in the ‘material’ economy, upon all other social activities.


The totality of social life is finally integrated into capitalist economy, and subjected to its immanent logic defined by Marx as ‘commodity fetishism’. Relations among humans take on the fantastic form of relations among things, and these reified relations are characterized by abstractness, quantifiability and translatability into the value-form of the ‘general equivalent’ (that is, ‘money’). This historical process does away with all the pre-capitalist forms of sociability, and so it does away with the specific forms of culture. An implicit tenet of this theory is that, although capitalism introduces a progressive movement into society in general, its impact is not similarly progressive in the sphere of culture where capitalism is anti-cultural. No specific cultural policy can be proposed within this horizon, since culture in its specificity has already been abolished within the capitalist system, or, if anything remains of it, it is an anachronistic relict of pre-capitalist epochs or, at best, of the early stages of the ascent of bourgeoisie when it was still mimicking aristocratic ways. The strategy that followed from this theoretical position was socialist revolution. Contrary to the supposition of the reification theory that the development of capitalism is a sort of mechanical expansion, the ‘society of spectacle’ position holds that the expansion of the capitalist logic across society brings about a kind of dialectical reversal through which the dominant and the generalized social relation becomes the spectacle. The result of the final grip of capitalism over society is not reification, but its contrary, namely the ‘spectacularization’ of interhuman relations. It is not circulation of things, but that of images that determines social relations in contemporary capitalism. This description rather fairly depicts the working of capitalism in its ‘core’ during the B-phase of a systemic cycle.29 At the point when the drive to infinite accumulation of capital has exhausted available niches of material production, the solution is found in a process which appears, from the point of view of the capital, as the flight of the capital towards financial transactions (as opposed to investment or immediate commodity transactions). This process has been well-elaborated in the ‘economic cycles’ theories (Arrighi, 1996). Less attention has been paid to the way the process appears, not from the point of view of capital production, but from the point of view of the individual consumer. From this perspective, the process actually appears as an autonomous flux of images for solid structural reasons, among which the necessity of aesthetic diversification of otherwise homogeneous products, the necessity to create demand in a context of hyper-production, and with the expansion of the entertainment industry which, being the production of representations, is not


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much more than an immediate materialization, in all the phases of its economy, of the two ‘necessities’ and is consequently one of the few branches of material production (together with, for example, military industry) which can still expand after the completion of the A-phase of the systemic cycle. While the society of spectacle position agrees with the reification theory that the solution cannot be but the (revolutionary) abolition of capitalism, it differs from the reification theory in that it considers that the revolution should start with the destruction of the cultural dimension of contemporary social relations. For, according to the perspective of Debord and his followers, culture is not a ‘sphere’ of society, it is the dimension of reproduction which permeates contemporary social relations of domination and exploitation (Debord, 1992; Jameson, 1991). Alternative cultural practices seem closer to Debord than to the Marxists. They situate themselves outside the apories of culturification of economy and economization of culture, and try to construct a new social sphere for their operations and for their products. Nuclei of this new ‘sphere’ are often called autonomous zones; if any cultural and more widely social action is to be possible in these zones, they have to be connected. It is this necessity that directs alternative cultures towards the nexus phenomena. To conclude, we may describe the three modes of cultural policy that presently work upon the nexus phenomena in the following way; 1 Political establishments mostly act repressively against the nexus phenomena or, at their best, try to recuperate them for the type of social reproduction they themselves endeavour to promote. 2 Peripheral cultural industries are parasitic upon the nexus phenomena, and produce multiple unintentional side-effects, some of which can be diverted towards alternative further elaboration. 3 Finally, alternative cultural practices are vitally dependent upon the nexus phenomena which are among the very few historical supports they can find for their operations. Notes 1 ‘…trade in cultural goods multiplied by five between 1980 and 1998. Cultural industries are growing exponentially … they are to become a central pillar of the information society ’ (Unesco, 2003). 2 In a similar perspective, J.-L. Amselle (2001) proposes the concept of branchement, ‘junction, connection’. 3 A study of national reports of the EU countries within the Council of Europe cultural policy evaluation programme concludes: ‘The ideology that


4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11 12

13 14

prevailed in the reports with later dates suggests that a “cultural policy based on enterprise” can presumably better meet the needs of consumers than the state regulation of “access’ to culture” ’ (Breznik, 2004). An anecdote to illustrate this point. According to magazine Svet (6 March 2004), the winning song of the Serbia and Montenegro Eurosong national contest ‘Lane moje/My bamby’ (that was to win second position at the Eurovision song contest in Istanbul, 15 May 2004) may be just an arrangement of the composition ‘Sen gelmez oldun’, composed by Elekber Tahijev and performed by Azerbaidjani instrumentalist Alihan Samedov. The original composition figures in the compilation Buddha-bar V (1993), produced to serve as musical background in Buddha-bars across Germany, France and Spain. Although a historical chance seems to have been destroyed when neoliberal core-capitalism adopted peripheral nationalist restoration (cf. Lešnik, 1999; Breznik, 1995), alternative cultural and political practices, culturally so productive and socially so inventive during socialism, are now entering again upon the historical scene. (Cf. Gregorˇciˇc and Kovaˇciˇc, 2003; Bibiˇc, 2003.) ‘Cultural diversity’ was substituted for ‘cultural exception’; other attempts were ‘cultural exclusion’, ‘cultural specificity’ (Regourd, 1993; Gournay, 2002; Regourd, 2004). ‘Culturalization’ means ‘de-politicization’ within the specifically modern concept of culture. Maja Breznik shows how the emergence of an ‘autonomous sphere of culture and art’ in the European renaissance was at the same time the result of class struggles and a decisive factor in the march to power of the new proto-capitalist classes (Breznik, 2005). As much as Gellner’s formula ‘One State, one Nation, one Culture’ can be contested for the ‘classical’ nations (Moˇcnik, 1994; Wallerstein, 1995), it probably holds for contemporary cultural ‘identitary’ constructions. In 1992, those ‘persons from the republics of Socialist Federal Republic Yugoslavia’ who had not been granted Slovene citizenship, were deprived of their status of permanent residents. This ‘purposeful political act of a discriminatory nature’ (Dedić et al., 2003) is now commonly referred to as the ‘erasure’. In 2003, the Association of the Erased Residents of Slovenia had 18,305 members (ECRI, 2003). Individuals from former republics of SFRY living in Slovenia are ‘immigrants’ both in ‘scare quotes’ – since most of them have been living in Slovenia for the larger part of their lives, and many have been born in Slovenia – and in ‘quotation marks’, since this is how legislative and policy documents refer to them, while they are formally denied the status of minorities. This violence has been ruled unconstitutional by two decisions of the Constitutional Court (1999 and 2003). ‘Immigrants’ are isolated as far as they are excluded by the majority population – and they are integrated into solidarity networks they establish among themselves (Dragoš and Leskošek, 2003). For an analysis of the processes mystified by the culturalist jargon, see Gambino (2003). Yugoslavia was destroyed by the practices led by the idea of the ‘sovereignty of the majority ethnic group’ (Karamanić, 2003; Kržišnik Bukić, 2005).


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15 We will adapt the conceptual apparatus proposed by the authors in: Ducrot (1996); Anscombre and Ducrot (1997). Cf. Moˇcnik (2002). 16 The topos evoked remains on the level of the ‘background’; we will mark this by writing T above the horizontal line under which we will present the [argument → conclusion] chain. 17 In Ducrot’s terminology, the two converse topical forms of a topos T are opposed as FT +P → +Q vs FT −P → −Q . Here it is: FT +P → − Q vs FT −P → −Q . 18 The turbo-folk star Ceca Ražnatović (Svet, 29 November 2003): ‘… I continue to sing love songs – the subject is unhappy love.’ 19 The video ‘Tetovaža /Tattoo/’ (Indira Radić) presents an encyclopaedic tour across the metamorphoses of the former neo-folk genres. It starts in the ambiance of what is the present existence of the former ‘mahala-garden’ genre: a sleeping room in a block apartment, from where the singer descends to the parking lot (what used to be the ‘sokak’), and drives along a metropolitan boulevard (the ‘landscape’ – what used to be fields and hills), stops on a river bank under a bridge (a scenery that could well figure in a traditional rustic genre – only that the banks are cemented, the river invisible, and the bridge is a highway bridge); and so on. 20 The song ‘Kućo moja/My house’ by Miloš Bojanić begins in the classical decasyllabic verse and with the traditional ‘catching-up’ start of the melody. The song and the video then systematically destroy the standard inventory of home-nostalgia topoï. 21 Cf. the video of the song ‘Hajde, brate, da zapjevamo/Let us sing, brother’, Goran and Miloš Bojanić. 22 ‘Socially committed’ refers to practices and products; ‘civic’ refers to the status of practitioners and locations. ‘Civic’ is opposed to ‘public’ in its legal sense of ‘established by the state or local authorities’ and ‘state-financed’, and to ‘commercial’ in its sense of ‘profit-oriented’ and ‘operating on the market’. 23 A pop singer from Split, popular across the former Yugoslavia. 24 A third-generation classic of the turbo-folk. 25 ‘The king of the Gipsy music’; appreciated in Central and South-East Europe. 26 For the socio-cultural profile of the neo-folk audience, see: Milena Dragićević-Šešić (1994). 27 Ljubljana-based break-beat DJ Borka, interview. 28 At best, reference to this tradition is used defensively in favour of the ‘alternative’ or ‘independent’ cultural production. 29 A systemic cycle of capital accumulation consists of an increasing A-phase and a decreasing B-phase (Arrighi, 1996; Wallerstein, 1998).

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Karamanić, S. (2003) Editorial Prelom (Journal for Contemporary Art and Theory). Belgrade: Centre for Contemporary Art, vol. 3, no. 5, Spring–Summer. Kaufman, T. and Raunig, G. (2003) Anticipating European Cultural Policies – Europäische Kulturpolitiken vorausdenken. Vienna: European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. Kržišnik Bukić, V. (2005) ‘Nasledstvo nekdanje Jugoslavije in težava z dvojnimi merili/The heritage of Yugoslavia and the trouble with a double standard’, Delo. Ljubljana 2 April. Kuzmanić, T. (2002) Politika, mediji, UZI in WTC/Politics, the media, Office for Interventions, and the World Trade Center. Ljubljana: Mirovni inštitut. Lešnik, B. (1999) ‘Video and the “alternative cultural scene” in Slovenia during the eighties’, Videodocument – Essays. Ljubljana: Open Society Institute. Mauss, M. (1985) ‘L’Essai sur le don’ in same Sociologie et anthropologie. Paris: PUF. Marx, K. (1962) Das Kapital, I, in K. Marx and F. Engels Werke 23. Berlin: Dietz. Moˇcnik, R. (1994) ‘Das “Subjekt, dem unterstellt wird zu glauben” und die Nation als eine Null-Institution’, in H. Böcke et al. (eds), Denk-Prozesse nach Althusser. Hamburg, Berlin: Argument. Moˇcnik, R. (2002) ‘From nation to identity’, The School Field, vol. 13, no. 6: 81–98. Ražnatović, C. (2003) Interview Svet 29 November. Regourd, S. (1993) ‘Pour l’exclusion culturelle’, Le Monde diplomatique. June. Regourd, S. (2004) L’exception culturelle. Paris: PUF. Schmitt, C. (1922) Politische Theologie. München, Leipzig: Duncker & Humboldt. UNESCO (2003) Culture, Trade and Globalisation. Paris: Unesco Publishing. Wallerstein, I. (1995) ‘The French revolution as a world-historical event’, in same Unthinking Social Science. Cambridge, Oxford: Polity Press, Blackwell. Wallerstein, I. (1995) ‘The inventions of TimeSpace realities: Towards an understanding of our historical systems’, in same Unthinking Social Science. Cambridge, Oxford: Polity Press, Blackwell. Wallerstein, I. (1998) Utopistics or Historical Choices for the 21st Century. New York: The New Press.

12 Towards a Transcultural Policy For European Cosmopolitanism Kevin Robins

Introduction In the recent period, European governments and societies – both West and East – have had to deal with a wide range of issues that have generally tended to be classified under the heading of ‘minority’ issues. In different ways, and at different speeds, they have had to respond to the needs and demands of those they have minoritized, and to negotiate the relation between majority and minority populations. Over time, a range of legal and/or constitutional measures has gradually been instituted to protect the interests of minority groups in different European societies. Recognition has been progressively afforded to the economic, the social, and to an increasing extent the cultural rights of minorities. Whilst progress has been uneven, and there is still much work to be done in this area, we may say that, right across the European space, there has been a general recognition of the need to engage with the interests and concerns of minorities. And in some contexts, we may even say that there has been a positive and constructive shift of attitude towards the presence – and significance – of minorities in the European cultural order. We can identify two key developments in this process of coming to terms with the reality and import of minority cultures. Ironically, they are both developments in which the pursuit of the ‘minority’ agenda has actually turned out to be productive for the wider European project. The first development concerns a change of approach towards minorities – what could, potentially at least, be a productive shift in perspective towards the meaning and significance of minority cultures in Europe. In the post-Second World War period, governments and other institutions in Europe began to develop policy agendas around what was conceived 254

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as the ‘minority’ question. In the context of these agendas, minorities were regarded as an unfortunate problem that European societies had to confront. The minority question in Europe has essentially been about the problem of minority cultures in, and for, the European cultural order. And the debate consequently focused on the nature of the difficulties that minority populations throw up for majority cultures, and the policy measures that majorities and their governments could take to manage or contain those problems. Recently, however, in some quarters there has been something of a discursive shift in which the language of ‘minorities’ has begun to be displaced by a new conceptual frame concerned with ‘diversity’. This new discursive frame has been significant for the way in which it has taken the issue of difference and complexity in European culture beyond the simplistic ‘minority/majority’ opposition. There are a number of positive developments in this shift. First, in the new discursive context ‘cultural diversity’ has come to be regarded, not any longer in the limited – and problematical – terms of the otherness presented by minorities, but as a constitutive aspect of all cultural orders and spaces. The category of ‘diversity’ has helped to normalize difference. Second, the concept of ‘diversity’ has made it possible to expand mental and imaginative horizons beyond ethnic categorization, to include other kinds of difference (such as gender, age or sexual orientation). It has worked towards the de-ethnicization of difference. And, third, it has made it possible to see difference and complexity, no longer as problematical phenomena, but actually as a positive asset and resource for any cultural order. It has validated difference. The second key development in this process of addressing the challenge for Europe of minorities and the ‘minority cultures’ agenda again concerns a potentially significant change of perspective. In this case, what is at issue is a shift of geographical frame. For the most part, the agenda for minority policies and politics has tended to be addressed in a strictly national context. The issue has been framed almost exclusively in terms of the relation between national minorities and the national majority population: in terms of the assertion of minority rights to recognition, that is to say, along with the associated responsibilities of national majorities to implement inclusive social and cultural policies. The minority question has generally been addressed, then, from the point of view of the social and cultural integration of minorities into the dominant national order. What have become ever more apparent, however, are the difficulties and limitations of this integrationist approach. Recent developments in patterns of migration, as

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well as in life strategies of migrant populations, have made it clear that minority issues – which are increasingly coming to be cast as diversity issues – can no longer be easily contained within the national frame of reference. Diversity policies are being pulled into both an international and a transnational frame of reference. First, we have seen a move – largely as a consequence of the interventionist role of transnational European institutions, notably the European Commission and the Council of Europe – towards a European-wide harmonisation of national approaches and strategies for cultural diversity. Second – and undoubtedly with far more radical implications – there has been a growing recognition that diversity issues are increasingly exceeding and surpassing the policy capacities of national governments and institutions. Thus, the Council of Europe’s Declaration on Cultural Diversity makes clear the growing recognition by member states that ‘cultural diversity [can] no longer be effectively dealt with only at the national level’ (2001: 7). What has become more evident is that the new and various mobilities and movements associated with socalled globalization have brought with them new kinds of diversity and complexity into the European cultural space, involving new kinds of cultural juxtaposition, encounter, exchange and mixing. And, crucially, these new forms of diversity and complexity are transnational and transcultural in their nature – functioning, that is to say, across national frontiers and operating across different cultural spaces. What I will argue in this chapter is that these transcultural developments are presenting significant and interesting new challenges to the established national mechanisms through which European states have hitherto managed policy for cultural diversity and citizenship. In many policy domains, transnational or transcultural perspectives and measures are increasingly called for. What is required, beyond the harmonization of national approaches and policies, is the elaboration of a transnational or transcultural approach to issues of cultural diversity. And, I will also argue that, in taking the debate on diversity beyond both the minority and the national frames, what may actually become apparent is the potential for elaborating a genuinely European policy frame for cultural diversity. What initially began as Europe’s ‘minority’ problem might ultimately turn out to be a positive catalyst in challenging and stimulating the European imagination – promoting new kinds of critical reflection on the cultural meaning of Europe as a whole, in all its scope and complexity.

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Limitations of the national frame A key objective of this chapter, then, is to argue for the significance of a transnational and transcultural approach to cultural diversity policy in Europe. And, in order to begin thinking about the significance of transcultural possibilities, I maintain, we first have to come to terms with the national imaginaire, with the national frame within which cultural policy has for the most part been elaborated until now. For it is the nation and nation-state that have served as the primary frame of reference for cultural policy in the modern period. Indeed, we may say that the nation-state created an entirely new and unprecedented institution of culture and cultural policy. In the nation-state era, cultural policy has essentially been about shaping and managing national cultural orders. The central objective has been to create a sense of belonging and allegiance to the national community, to what Benedict Anderson (1983) has famously called the ‘imagined community’ of the nation. The national culture has been seen as giving expression to the spirit, the character, and the historical continuity of ‘the people’, the Volk. It has served to create a manifest sense of ‘us’ – who we are and what we stand for – and to differentiate ‘us’ from ‘them’. The institution of a shared national culture, a culture in common, has, consequently, been valued as an integrating and binding mechanism. It is what holds the nation together, and what binds its citizens together as fellow nationals, both in the present and through time. This organization of cultures and identities on the basis of national imagined communities was a very particular way of organizing them; a social construction that came, in the modern period, to seem a natural and self-evident way. The order of sovereign national societies and cultures appeared to be simply the way that the world was ordered – and also the way it should be ordered. But now, in the context of globalization and transnational developments, the limitations of the national frame may be starting to become more apparent. In times that are constantly throwing up more complex forms of cultural experience – and are consequently requiring more open and inventive kinds of response – the national agenda may increasingly be seen to have certain significant inadequacies. This is not at all to make the facile claim that the days of the nation-state are numbered. It is just to make the rather more modest point that the nation-state’s ways of thinking and managing culture – or cultures – are now proving to be restrictive. It is to say that we now need to be more reflexive with respect to the national imaginaire: to defamiliarize the tropes


of national cultural reasoning, in order to critically reflect on their limitations. There are two points that might be made concerning the national paradigm. The first relates to the way in which culture is envisioned within it, and to the problematical implications that this has with respect to thinking about cultural diversity. And the second is to do with the its hegemonic nature – the absolutely central, and seemingly self-evident, sovereignty that it has assumed in social theory and policy, including the capacity to obscure alternative cultural imaginations. First, then, we have to recognize the very particular way in which culture and society are represented in the national paradigm. As Craig Calhoun (1999: 217) observes, national societies are always imagined as ‘bounded, integral wholes with distinctive identities, cultures and institutions.’ An imagined community is organized around a shared collective identity, an identity that each person shares with all the other ‘members’ of the community. A culture in common, a unitary culture, comes to be valued and cultivated as a mechanism for collective cultural bonding. As Katherine Verdery (1993: 38) notes, the national paradigm is informed by an essentially homogenizing discourse. National culture ‘aims its appeal at people presumed to have certain things in common as against people thought not to have any mutual connections.’ There is consequently an inherent resistance to those who do not have things in common, who do not belong – ‘them’, meaning both outsiders and diverse populations within. Those within are marginalized, or minoritized, in order not to compromise the ‘clarity’ of the imagined community. And with respect to the others outside, the national community seeks to differentiate itself, to maintain its fundamental discreteness, protecting its borders and asserting its sovereignty; to belong to the community is to be contained within a bounded culture. Imagined in this sense, the community is always fated to anxiety. The coherence and integrity of what is held in common must always be conserved and sustained against diversity and complexity, which come to be represented as forces of disintegration and potential dissolution. Ultimately, at the deepest level, difference is resented and feared, because it has come to be associated with the fragmentation of what should be whole. The national paradigm privileges cultural homogeneity, then, and is inherently and constantly anxious about the (imagined) implications of cultural diversity. Now, let us be quite clear, this is not to say that national governments will necessarily legislate and act according to this homogenizing logic (which, in its most radical form, is the

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logic of ethnic cleansing). European governments have, of course, responded in recent decades – in different ways and with different senses of urgency – to the needs and demands of their plural populations. European nation-states have certainly come to acknowledge the reality of cultural diversity. The point is that cultural diversity has been recognized – recognized as a problem to be managed – but the fundamental logic of the imagined community paradigm still remains intact. The ideal of bounded and homogeneous community still prevails, and the anxieties about its potential dissolution still persist. Thus, in his book, On Nationality (1995), David Miller puts forward the argument that the processes of globalization, involving accelerating global flows of people, represent a fundamental challenge to the ideal of national cultural integrity – ‘a challenge to the idea that people need to have the kind of map that a national identity provides’ (1995: 165). As a consequence of ‘the impact of multiculturalism internally and the world economy externally,’ he maintains, ‘societies are becoming more culturally fragmented’ (1995: 185). And what then ensues, as Miller sees it, is the escalation of discourses concerned with ‘the quest for cultural diversity, to celebrate diversity, bolster ethnic pride and encourage people to pick and choose among the array of cultural identities that global culture makes accessible’ (1995: 186). The national frame remains a potent way of representing and organizing social reality. And that is surely a problem in a period shaped by global flows, proliferating cultural diversities, and increasing difficulties in protecting cultural borders and sovereignties. The second point to be made concerning the national cultural paradigm is to do with its unquestioned status in social theory, research and policy. What must be recognized is that the social sciences were created at the high point of the nation-state era. The ‘societies’ that they have studied and described have, not surprisingly then, been nationstate societies. When they have sought to promote social integration, this has actually meant national cohesion. And this correlation of society with nation-state came to seem absolutely ‘natural ‘ and self-evident. We may say that the nation-state paradigm was a hegemonic paradigm in the true sense of the term: it was for long unquestioned and unchallenged, because its presence was not apparent, not recognized. The social sciences were looking through national spectacles without realizing that they were wearing any. What we now have to deconstruct, then, is what has been termed ‘embedded statism’ (Taylor, 1996) or ‘methodological nationalism’ (Wimmer and Glick Schiller, 2002), whereby the nation-state has become the ontological basis upon which social research and policy


have been grounded. The root issue, as Andreas Wimmer and Nina Glick Schiller (2002: 304) observe, is that the social sciences have been ‘captured by the apparent naturalness and givenness of a world divided into societies along the lines of nation-states.’ They are deeply informed by a principle of methodological nationalism that ‘tak[es] national discourses, agendas, loyalties and histories for granted, without problematising them or making them an object of an analysis in its own right’ (ibid.). The consequence is a sociological imagination grounded in what Wimmer and Glick Schiller (ibid.: 307) call the ‘container model’, in which societies are imagined in terms of an isomorphism of culture, polity, economy, territory and a bounded social group. And so powerful is this as a way of imagining the social world that alternative configurations cannot easily be envisaged, particularly with respect to the kinds of transnational developments with which this chapter is concerned. New cultural developments – developments that might actually go against the national grain – are looked at and analysed from a national perspective – through the national lens. Wimmer and Glick Schiller give the example of transnational migration, making the argument that transnational migrants are generally viewed as anomalous presences. They are regarded as the outsiders who come and destroy the isomorphism between people, polity and nation: ‘Immigrants are perceived as foreigners to the community of shared loyalty towards the state and shared rights guaranteed by the state. Transnational migrants presumably remain loyal to another state whose citizens they are and to whose sovereign they belong’ (ibid.: 309). Transnational migrant cultures tend, then, to be perceived, not in terms of what might turn out to be new and innovative about them, but in terms of their capacity to confound and disturb the established and coherent order of national cultures and societies. Methodological nationalism has been the hegemonic paradigm in social research and social policy, and we may say that it remains hegemonic in most domains of social analysis. And, in a context where we are now trying to understand the implications of global and transnational developments for Europe, this is surely a problematical situation. The imposition of national categories makes it difficult for us to see what might be new and different in the dynamics of contemporary change. New social practices and processes are subordinated to old cultural models. What must be acknowledged, then, is the deeply embedded nature of the national imaginaire, the degree to which it permeates both social experience and social analysis and thought. Thinking about

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transnational and transcultural developments requires us, not just to empirically observe what is happening in Europe now, but also to be reflexive and innovative in the conceptual and theoretical discourses we mobilise to make and to analyse these observations. We have to move beyond a framework that has been predicated on the existence of individual (national) societies, each of them conceived as bounded and discrete entities, to consider a new kind of European space in which borders are less containing and networks and flows also figure increasingly in the landscape (Urry, 2000). Göran Therborn (2000) regards it in terms of a fundamental change of perspective – a paradigm shift – from the national frame to one whose reference point is globality.

Transnational mobilities and migrations For what are centrally at issue are the nature and the significance of the processes that are commonly referred to as ‘globalization’. A great deal has been written about the consequences of globalization and new global flows; the world has increasingly come to be been conceived as a global space of flows – flows of people, commodities, media, information, crime, pollution, finance, and so on. I cannot undertake a wider discussion of all these various dimensions of globalization here (for such discussions see, inter alia, Albrow, 1996; Bauman, 1998; Beck, 2000; Held et al., 1999). In line with this book’s concern with cultural diversity, I will focus specifically and primarily on flows of people, on the flows of new global migrants, and on the implications of these flows for European society and culture. On 19 January 2004, the front page of Newsweek magazine proclaimed the significance of the migration issue under the heading ‘Moving On Up’, with the sub-heading ‘Migrant Workers And Their Money Are Transforming Economies in Europe And Around The World’. They are also transforming cultures and societies. How, then, I shall ask here, are these new mobilities, and the changing demographies that they are bringing about, now requiring us to change our thinking about the European social and cultural space and, particularly, about the significance and value of diversity within it? Before turning to consider this question, there is one brief preliminary point that should be made about globalization, a point concerning its relation to the nation-state. For the most part, the relation between global processes and the nation-state has been conceived in terms of a fundamental opposition: in terms of the threat that global flows and porous borders are presenting for the sovereignty and integrity of the nation-state. This conception is also commonly associated with


a teleology that suggests that the logic of globalization is now more powerful than that of imagined community. Globalization is the thing of the future, and nation-states may well be anachronistic. The metaphor (for that is what it is) underpinning this conception of change is that of the transition from one historical era – the era of the nation-state – to another – the era of globalization. What should be emphasized from the outset are the limitations of this way of imagining social change in terms of successive historical phases. Alternatively, we might adopt a geological metaphor, to suggest the idea of historical accretion and layering. Globalization would then be seen in terms of process whereby transnational geographies settle over national geographies. In this case, the national order is not displaced or left behind, but rather covered over by the new global configuration, the two different kinds of social and cultural space coexisting as distinct strata. We are never living, then, in discrete and successive ages or eras. I should therefore again emphasize here that my critique of the national cultural paradigm, and of methodological nationalism, does not imply the prospect of the end of the nation-state. As a critique of the defensiveness and limited vision of the national paradigm, it is intended, rather, to invoke the possibility of accommodation – rather than opposition – between national and transnational dynamics. Intended to invoke the possibility, more specifically, of a Europe whose twenty-first century social and cultural geography amounts to much more than just a series of discrete national geographies. At the outset of the twenty-first century, something significantly new is happening in the European continent, and to what has been regarded as the Europe of nation-states. This something has to do with the proliferation of new kinds of transnational movements, flows and connections of people into and across the European space. They are developments associated with the economic and social dynamics of globalization; the flows of migrant populations are inextricably linked to all the other kinds of flows associated with the complex processes of globalization. And they raise issues of an unprecedented kind. As Stephen Castles (2002: 1144) observes, ‘migration is one of the key forces of social transformation in the contemporary world’. We may say that the migrations of the recent period have dramatically changed the social and cultural composition of European societies, and that that it is these movements, crucially, that are now compelling us to rethink the meaning and value of cultural identity and cultural diversity in the European space. Global migrations present a fundamental challenge to European social and cultural policy. There are clearly possibilities that

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these proliferating transnational migrations will bring with them new dangers of social tension, antagonism and conflict. But perhaps there might also be new possibilities for confronting these threats, and at the same time working to ‘modernize’ the European social model? Indeed, we might suggest that that there is now no alternative – that the new complexities of the European social space now make it imperative that we take up this latter challenge. In order to avert the dangerous possibilities and to be able to recognize the more productive ones, we need to understand the nature and significance of these contemporary migrations. There have been two major phases of migration into the European continent. The first took off in the 1950s, and was generally characterized by migrations of colonial and post-colonial populations to the imperial ‘mother countries’ – for example, migrations from West Africa and the Maghreb into France, from Indonesia into the Netherlands, or from the Caribbean and South Asia into Britain. Migration was to particular and limited destinations, determined for the most part by shared (albeit unequally) historical, cultural and linguistic links. In recent years, this pattern of post-colonial migration has been of diminishing significance, and we may now say that it has progressively given way to new migrations of a different kind. These new migrations still partly use the established networks and patterns of the previous post-colonial connections, so that people from former colonies continue to enter Europe through their former imperial routes, but they are now subsumed into a much larger and more complex migratory phenomenon. For a whole swathe of economic, political and cultural reasons, Europe has become an increasingly attractive destination for both economic and forced migrants from diverse parts of the world (Nigerians, Somalis, Iraqis, Tamils, Turks, Kurds, Afghans, Bosnians, Kosovans, the Philippines, China, Russia, and others). And what we are consequently experiencing is a profound change in the dynamics of mobility and settlement, associated with what we might term the new migrations of globalization. What precisely is it, then, that is new and distinctive about these migrations of globalization? I will try to address this question in terms of four, very closely interrelated, aspects of new, transnational migrant practices and sociality: • First, we should note that, unlike the earlier generation of settlers, these migrants have not travelled to an imperial centre, but to whichever European country would accept them. They have no historical, and therefore privileged, relation to any particular


European country – it is not ‘destiny’, but something far more arbitrary which has generally brought them to wherever they happen to land up in the European continent. As a result of this more random logic of migration, the new waves of migrants that have been coming to Europe through the 1990s have generally tended to be dispersed to more than one country. What is characteristic, then, is the relatively wide distribution of particular groups across the European space, and beyond. And, as a consequence of this new kind of dispersed and cross-border migration pattern, what we may observe is the coming into existence of new and complex migrant flows, connections and networks. What is distinctive, then, is the nature and degree of transnational connectivity and connectedness between what are variously referred to as ‘transnational communities’ (Portes et al., 1999), ‘transmigrants’ (Glick Schiller et al., 1995), or ‘new global diasporas’ (Cohen, 1997). Migrant populations are connected to each other, and commonly also in close connection to their country of origin. This is precisely the transnational dimension of their lives. Absolutely crucial here, of course, is the technological and communications infrastructure that now makes this kind of interconnection possible, and even routine, whether it be cheap and easy air travel or new communications media (for example satellite television, the Internet). Being able to travel, sometimes even ‘commute’, between places in which one has vital interests changes the nature of migrant experience significantly (though, as Zygmunt Bauman (1998: ch. 4) reminds us, many migrants do not have such mobility at their disposal). Being able to mundanely watch television channels broadcast from ‘home’ makes a quite important difference (Aksoy and Robins, 2003). What communications technologies are now making possible is the enlargement of the lifespace of migrants, involving the capacity to be synchronized with lifeworlds situated elsewhere. • The second aspect of transnational migrant practices that is new and distinctive concerns the way in which new economic and social livelihoods are being established on the basis of this networking culture. Alejandro Portes and his co-researchers suggest that the development of transnational businesses and enterprise may now be regarded as a new – and growing – form of immigrant economic adaptation (Portes et al., 2002). What we are seeing is the emergence of new kinds of enterprises, and of diverse kinds, operating on the basis of transnational economic and social networks. These may be fairly precarious, as is the case with what has been called ‘circular migration’, a good example of which is the mobile small entrepreneurship undertaken

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by the thousands of people from Eastern Europe and the ex-Soviet Union now involved in ‘suitcase trading’ in Turkey. This population in continuous trading movement across national frontiers amounts to what has been called the ‘globalisation of informality’ (Erder, 2003). In other cases, however, what are coming into existence are more robust and established enterprises, businesses attuned to the needs of transnational communities (and then also extending beyond them), and drawing upon the particular skills accumulated and developed by transnational migrants (bi- or multi-lingualism; cultural flexibility). Portes et al. (1999: 229) make very clear the logic underpinning this distinctive entrepreneurial turn: Whereas, previously economic success and social status depended exclusively on rapid acculturation and entrance into mainstream circles of the host society, at present they depend (at least for some) on cultivating strong social networks across national borders … For immigrants involved in transnational activities and their home country counterparts, success does not so much depend on abandoning their culture and language to embrace those of another society as on preserving their original cultural endowments, while adapting instrumentally to a second. It is precisely through their strategic non-assimilation that such migrants make a living and a new lifespace for themselves; it may actually be in their interest to remain at odds with the host society (and also, actually, with the society of origin). And, given the practical and productive sense that this strategy makes, it seems that transnational practices ‘from below’ are likely to become even more prevalent in the future. • The consequences of such strategies, pursued now by a growing number of transnational migrants, are, in their aggregation, significant – significant for European nation-states. These mundane, everyday strategies for a better life and lifespace actually turn out to have quite considerable implications for national cultures and the national frame. The crucially significant issue is that these migrants are no longer choosing to assimilate, or integrate, into national societies in the way that they once had to. ‘[I]n a global economy’, Glick Schiller et al. (1995: 52) observe, ‘contemporary migrants have found full incorporation in the countries within which they settle either not possible or not desirable’. Transnational migrants are actively involved in multiple linkages, and depend for their livelihoods on


such linkages, and therefore they tend to have complex sets of affiliations. Their interests cannot be served by any single nation-state, and so there is no longer a positive incentive to invest their interests and attachments in any one national community. As Stephen Castles (2003: 20–1) makes clear, the logic of multiple affiliations works to ‘question the dominance of the nation-state as the focus of social belonging’. The challenge to the national order is fundamental. For what is now made more and more apparent is that ‘the notion of primary loyalty to one place is … misleading: it was an icon of oldstyle nationalism that has little relevance for migrants in a mobile world’ (Castles, 2002: 1159). In the transnational context, national culture and identity – in the singular form in which it has prevailed until now – comes to seem restrictive and inadequate. And, as a result, the aura and authority of national identity tend to be weakened. Ten or fifteen tears ago, when the issue was focused on national minorities and their national incorporation, these developments were understood in terms of the emergence of new kinds of multiple or ‘hybrid’ identities. We may say that, now, in the new transnational context, things look somewhat different. Now there is what we may regard as a greater reflexivity with respect to collective identities. This involves a significant change in the very nature of the relation that many migrants have to identity, and in the way that they think about their relation to collective communities, obligations, destinies, and so on. It may no longer be a question of ‘which identity?’, but of a calling into question of the identity agenda itself. And this development will surely turn out to have far more profound and unsettling implications for the national paradigm. • Transnational migrants are increasingly in a position, then, to distance themselves from the social and cultural life of imagined community. And what they are doing, at the same time and through the same processes, is constructing alternative forms of sociality. This is the final aspect of transnational migrant practices that I want to draw attention to here. It is now commonplace to speak of (im)migrant ‘communities’, and of diasporic or transnational ‘communities’, to describe new social and cultural developments. What I want to suggest in the context of contemporary transnational developments, is the need to move beyond the ‘community’ paradigm. What is actually being instituted, as a consequence of transnationalisation, is a different kind of sociality, one that is based on social networks and nexuses. In a rather different context than that under consideration here, Andreas Wittel

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draws attention to a general logic of change in contemporary societies. He refers to a dynamic in which the ‘community’ is being undermined – in which there is ‘disintegration of a formerly strong link between community/organisation and social life’ (Wittel, 2001: 64). Community is giving way to ‘individualization’, and what may be called ‘network sociality’. This is about ‘a shift away from regimes of sociality in closed social systems and towards regimes in open social systems’ (ibid.). People are ‘so to speak, “lifted out” of their [community] contexts and reinserted in largely disembedded social systems, which they must at the same time continuously construct’ (ibid.: 65). Individuals depend, not on their community any longer, but on the social capital that they can accumulate. For such ‘individualized’ individuals, new kinds of resourcefulness become vital: they must have the capacity to build social networks, or translocal connections, and then the capacity continuously to deconstruct and reconstruct them in the light of changing circumstances and experiences. (See also Chapter 10 by Meinhof and Triandafyllidou.) This would appear to be precisely the principle that is operating in many transnational migrant enterprises. And, rather than imposing the old categories of ‘community’ discourse on them, and thereby obscuring what is new in their functioning, it seems to me crucial that we actually try to understand the nature and the appeal of this alternative kind of sociality. For, as Alejandro Portes (1999: 469) crucially notes, transnational networks and connections ‘must be in the interest of those that engage in them since, otherwise, they would not invest the considerable time and effort required.’ What we need to understand, then, is just what it is that is of ‘interest’ in this network sociality – essentially, what it is that is empowering, that cannot, seemingly, be found any longer in the old social frame of community, identity and belonging. The new transnational migrations that have been occurring through the 1990s are changing the European social and cultural order in quite dramatic and significant ways, then. First, they have brought a new diversity and complexity to the continent, particularly in urban and metropolitan contexts. As Stephen Castles (2000: 203) observes: You only have to take a local bus or train to encounter people of every conceivable ethnic appearance. Distinct ethnic neighbourhoods circle the city centres, and their shops offer a wide range of imported foods, religious symbols and cultural artefacts. Dozens of


languages can be heard in the streets, while schools and hospitals have to cater for a wide range of cultural and linguistic needs. Mainstream cultural and culinary habits have become more cosmopolitan, and lifestyles have become more varied. The cultural landscape of Europe has been irrevocably transformed, and with it the daily cultural lives and experiences of all Europeans. And, second, the new migrations have given rise to innovative kinds of lifeworlds operating across transnational spaces. A Chinese family doing business in Budapest may be educating their children in the United States. A Turkish family living in London may be doing business in Hamburg and educating their children in Istanbul. Transnational migrants are commonly organizing their everyday lives in more complex ways, across extended spaces, and in ways that increasingly defy the containing powers of nation-states and national societies. These developments represent a fundamental challenge to the way in which European researchers and policy-makers have addressed issues of migration. Research and policy have until now been mainly concerned with processes of immigrant settlement and community formation, and with the impacts of immigration on the majority populations in host societies. Migration has been preeminently considered within the national frame; we may say that the national frame has simply been taken as self-evident. The core agenda has been to do with the management and containment of ethnic minority populations. And this objective is now proving more and more difficult to achieve. Consequently, there have been anxious and defensive reactions to the challenges of the new transnational migrations, and from the political Left as well as the Right (see for example Rowthorn, 2003: Goodhart, 2004). Thus, Bob Rowthorn (2003: 26), to take one example, admits that ‘the pace of the present transformation worries me. I believe it is a recipe for conflict’. For Rowthorn – as for David Miller – the fundamental problem resides in the challenge to the coherence and integrity of the nation-state. And his response is to defend the value of the national paradigm: Nations are historical communities that have the right to shape their own collective future as they see fit, and to resist developments that undermine their identity and sense of community. I do not believe that national identity can, or should, be refashioned at will by a cosmopolitan elite to accord with its own vision of how the world should be … A nation is a community and as such is to some extent

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exclusive. Its members share a sense of common identity and have special moral obligations to each other. (Rowthorn, 2003: 26) Rowthorn (2003: 31) is quite explicit about what he regards as the problem of ‘a massive and unacceptable inflow of migrants into rich countries’, and quite clear in his own mind about the appropriate form of response, seeing ‘no alternative but to support what is known pejoratively as “Fortress Europe”’. He is, of course, far from being alone in his cultural values and his action plan for defending them. What I would maintain is that such an approach is no longer a viable response to migration in Europe. Fortress protectionism cannot be a reasonable way forward. Transnational migrants are an absolutely integral aspect of the space of flows generated through the creation of transnational economic structures; in a global economy, we can hardly expect the workforce to remain rooted and contained in their national societies of origin. The question of migration therefore needs to be radically rethought in the context of globalization and the transnational nature of the new migrant cultures. ‘If’, as Stephen Castles (2003: 23) observes, ‘the dynamics of social relations transcend borders, then so must the theories and methods used to study them.’ Global change and the increasing importance of transnational processes require new approaches from the sociology of migration. ‘These’, as Castles (2003: 24) notes, ‘will not develop automatically out of existing paradigms, because the latter are often based on institutional and conceptual frameworks that may be resistant to change and whose protagonists may have strong interests in the preservation of the intellectual status quo’. What is required is a paradigm shift, an approach that departs theoretically from the national paradigm and adopts what Göran Therborn (2000) calls the perspective of globality. Global flows, networks and positionings are then regarded as the key frame within which to consider the significance of contemporary migrations. Migrants are seen not as moving between container societies, but rather as operating across transnational social spaces – spaces with ‘a multipolar geographic orientation, rather than one limited exclusively to a single coherent geographic space’ (Pries, 2001b: 6). Indeed, we may say that the new migrant practices – economic, political, religious, ideological, cultural – are one of the most significant factors now constituting transnational social spaces as a new geographical space layered across the old imagined geography of nation-states. The point is not to construct a false polarization between this transnational, or global, perspective on migration on the one hand, and the national perspective on the other. It is, rather, to suggest that there


are now competing frameworks within which we may reflect on the significance of the new migrations. And the crucial issue now concerns how to bring these two different perspectives into constructive dialogue. What this would essentially mean in practice, at the present time at least, is that nation-states should become more open to the transnational perspective; that, in the elaboration of social and cultural policies, they should seek to negotiate between both national and transnational perspectives. It would mean pursuing national interests, but refusing the logic of national homogenization and closure (as advocated by Bob Rowthorn). Pursuing national interests, but recognizing how much the congruity between cultural, political and territorial spaces has been complicated over the last decades. Pursuing national interests, but being open to the positive and productive potential of cultural diversity and complexity (as advocated by Stephen Castles). In practice, in the European context it would involve a more flexible and less solipsistic approach by national governments to cultural diversity issues. It would amount to a more truly European approach. How it would be a more European approach – what would be more European about accommodating the transnational perspective – is what I now want to consider.

Transnational social spaces and transcultural diversity What I have been moving towards saying is that transnational migration and transnational migrants have opened up a new cultural and diversity agenda for Europe – for Europe as a whole. Through the practices of transmigration, and the associated creation of new transnational social spaces (Pries, 2001a; Faist, 2000; Vertovec and Cohen, 1999), they are now compelling Europeans to change the frame within which they think about culture and politics. What they have made apparent, through the emergent reality of transnational spaces, is that the old and assumed isomorphism between culture, polity and territory is no longer to be taken as given. The fundamental principle upon which national cultures and communities have been predicated has been called into question. And, as a consequence, a new imagination of culture and cultural diversity – of culture as diversity – has become possible. As Rainer Bauböck (2003: 14) says, we might see transnational migration as ‘a catalyst that sets into motion a process of self-transformation of collective identities towards a more pluralistic and maybe even cosmopolitan outlook’. For the matters opened up for public debate as a result of transnational migrations have much more general implications, going beyond the matter of ethnocultural policies alone. They are

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also changing the ground of debate concerning wider issues of cultural diversity (gender, age, disability, and so on). And, ultimately, I would suggest, they are now provoking us into thinking more deeply about the meaning of Europe – the cultural values that Europe might stand for, and the meaning of both the ‘unity’ and ‘diversity’ that are said to characterize and distinguish European culture. The national frame of culture and identity tries to survive, of course. Within the European Union, we see frequent assertions of what amounts to a new kind of defensive and tactical cultural nationalism. As Ulf Hedetoft (1999: 73) has noted, ‘The EU as a super-modern project of rational enlightenment and civilised harnessing of nationalist energies not only confronts, but actually strengthens, it would seem, the very passions of national myth it was – at least in part – intended to quell’. And we may say that the national paradigm also tries to survive through its own reinvention. Thus, as Iver Neumann (1998: 409, 413) observes, ‘a lot of thinking about the European Union and the forging of a European identity is … coloured by the categories of “state” and “nation”’; there is a dynamic at work whereby the European Union ‘would borrow from nationalism in order to strengthen one particular European identity’. The geographical scale has increased, but the logic of imagined community and the national paradigm continues to prevail, and continues to promote the logic of social and cultural cohesion. European culture is imagined in terms of an idealised wholeness and unity, and European identity in terms of boundedness and containment. What is being invoked is the possibility of a new European order defined by a clear sense of its own coherence and integrity. We should not underestimate the resilience, then, of the imagined community paradigm. From the point of view of governance, national communities represent a very manageable kind of social entity. And from the citizen perspective, there is clearly a powerful appeal in what Ulf Hedetoft (1999: 75) refers to as the ‘existentiality of nationalism’, the experiential sense of familiarity, straightforwardness and security associated with national culture, grounded in the ‘imagined essences of “home” and “belonging” and “what feels natural”’. Even as we acknowledge this to be the case, we also need to recognize the extent to which these ideals of the national paradigm have ceased to correspond to the actual social and cultural realities of contemporary Europe. This is what the contemporary realities of transnational migration have made apparent to us. What the national community imagines and wills to exist does not in fact exist. European borders have become more and more porous (that was the point, after all, of


economic union), and the ‘container’ function of the nation-state is increasingly inoperable. European culture and society has consequently become more and more complex and diverse. Diversity and complexity are a de facto presence in European social and cultural life now, not the aspiration or fancy of idealistic cosmopolitan intellectuals. They are by now an overwhelming reality in the lives of all those living in the continent, and their significance needs to be urgently addressed, rather than disavowed. Following Ulrich Beck, we might say that diversity and complexity are integral to ‘the real Europe’; they are a crucial resource for the continuing Europeanization process. And, by the same token, we must recognize the extent to which ‘methodological nationalism denies the empirical reality of Europe’; how, that is to say, the ‘national categories of thought make the thought of Europe impossible’ (Beck, 2003: 46). To be quite pragmatic, what is now called for is some accommodation between national and cosmopolitan principles. Realistically, this must mean a greater awareness on the part of national governments of both the realities and the potential of the new diversities – a greater openness to new transcultural possibilities, that is to say. There is certainly ground to build on. Whilst European integration has provoked new expressions of cultural nationalism, it is also the case that national governments have, in another mode, been responding to the proliferating complexity within their populations. In recent years, there has been a growing acknowledgement of the cultural dimension of citizenship and, particularly, the diversity aspect. Policy initiatives have generally grown out of the claims for cultural rights and autonomy put forward by national and ethnic minorities. In this context, where culture has become synonymous with collective identity, minority groups have made claims for both recognition and resources. During the 1990s, the topic of multiculturalism and cultural diversity was widely debated between liberal and communitarian positions, giving rise to a welldeveloped discourse on the ‘politics of recognition’ and the ‘right to culture’ on behalf of minorities (Taylor, 1992; Kymlicka, 1995; Parekh, 2000). The debate also extended beyond minority issues, to also take account of the role of culture more generally in the life of the polity (Ilczuk, 2001; Stevenson, 2001; Pakulski, 1997). There was a growing awareness that the dimensions of citizenship identified classically by T.H. Marshall (1950) – civic, political and social – might be extended to include cultural entitlements. What began to be recognized was the value of cultural empowerment in the citizen body as a whole, involving the capacity on the part of all citizens to participate fully and creatively

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in national cultural life – accepted as a diverse and complex cultural life (Turner, 20001). What this chapter advocates is the extension of this approach to include not just cultural diversity, but also transcultural diversity. The problem with the agenda as it is presently framed is that it remains very much caught up in the national paradigm. Much of the debate quite explicitly seeks to contain the diversity debate within the national frame. Thus, in one of the most prominent contributions to the debate, Will Kymlicka (1995: 118, 94) says that he is ‘using “a culture” as synonymous with “a nation” or “a people”,’ claiming that ‘political life has an inescapably national dimension’. What is ultimately problematical is the conception of culture that is being mobilized within this agenda, in which the apparently neutral term ‘culture’ actually turns out to be culture in the national image. Thus, a culture is conceived as a unitary and a bounded entity; as the property of a particular ethnic or national group; as distinct from the cultures of other groups; and as fixed and constant through time. We should be attentive to the peculiarities of this cultural worldview and the consequences it has for those who live ‘in’ such cultures. As Craig Calhoun (1999: 227) observes, it is a conception of culture in which the prevailing assumption is that individuals should achieve ‘maximally integrated identities, and that to do so they need to inhabit self-consistent, unitary cultures or lifeworlds. It is thought normal for people to live in one culture at a time, for example; to speak one language; to adhere to one polity’. It is regarded as ‘natural’ that people should inhabit one coherent national identity, but, even more than that, that this principle should apply in all aspects of their lives, such that ‘they are members of one and only one race, one gender and one sexual orientation, and that each of these memberships describes neatly and concretely some aspect of their being’ (ibid.: 226). It is a principle that defies the actual complexity of real people’s cultures and identities. As Calhoun says, these ‘nationalist visions of internally uniform and sharply bounded cultural and political identities have had to be produced by struggle against a richer, more diverse and more promiscuously cross-cutting play of differences and similarities’ (ibid.: 227–8). At this point, I would also stress the paramount importance of keeping Eastern Europe right at the heart of the present discussion on transcultural developments, for the recent experiences of transcultural diversity in Western Europe now might provide a new opportunity to reflect on the social and cultural history of the European space as a whole. The opportunity, actually, to recall and acknowledge that transcultural


experiences are by no means a novel phenomenon in Europe. Thus, if, we take the part of Europe that was under Ottoman rule, what must clearly be apparent is the significance of migration in social and cultural experience. The demography of the Ottoman territories was – like that of the other empires – a very elaborate configuration brought about by complex and continuous processes of migration – economic, nomadic, political and forced. Donald Quataert (2000: 115–16) refers to the 100,000 refugees from Russia who overwhelmed Istanbul in 1921, passing on to the Ottoman Balkans, and then on again when the area became independent; and to the 2 million people who left the Caucasus region for destinations in the Ottoman Balkans (12,000 in Sofia alone), Anatolia and Syria. But movements were also occurring on a more routine basis, as ‘economic migration to urban centres was a normal and important feature of Ottoman life’ (Quataert, 2000: 114). Settlements within the Ottoman territories were normally composite. In Thrace, for example, ‘there were Greek, Bulgarian and Turkish villages and Greeks, Bulgarians, Turks, Jews and others lived [together] in the cities’ (McCarthy, 1997: 330). The point is that what we have here is a form of transculturalism. Transculturalism – which was originally prenational, and therefore pre-transnational – was actually the norm. What has generally been remembered about this European cultural experience, however, has been the narrative of the unmixing, the story of the decline of the Ottoman Empire and the emergence of the new (post-imperial) nation-states. Very rapidly the logic of methodological nationalism took over in Eastern European historiography. The story of transcultural complexity was transformed into the story of nationstates and their national minorities: the imperative that ensued for Eastern European societies was to consolidate nation-state communities (Ellmeier and Rásky, 1998). And what it brings out, in the contemporary context, is the Eastern European predicament of trying to rebuild national, institutional and administrative homogeneity, whilst, at the same time endeavouring to incorporate the new cultural diversity model presently being elaborated in Western European states. It is a question of ‘catch-up nationalization’; and then, it seems, of a catch-up diversity policy – centred, however, on national minorities and national cultural diversity. What I want to draw attention to, in the context of new transnational and transcultural developments, are the losses involved in this homogenizing national frame in Eastern European states. A greater European cultural policy would seem to require an Eastern European engagement with transcultural diversity, and an engagement that is grounded, moreover, in the particular history of the region.

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This engagement would, first, involve recognition of the important historical experiences of transculturalism in Eastern Europe, which lasted through the twentieth century (and which actually constitute a valuable historical legacy and resource for all Europeans). Despite the difficulties and conflicts that took place, coexistence was possible over a long period of time – and this coexistence was generally productive. And, second, it would entail recognition, on the basis of a necessary historical revisionism, and in the face of national monoculturalist strategies, of the continuing significance of transcultural connections in the region. For, no doubt, transnational connections will proliferate here too, between Eastern neighbours, and presently designated national ‘minorities’ will endeavour to reconstitute themselves on the basis transnational associations. A major issue arises with EU enlargement, with the fear that new Eastern Europe will be made into a defensive buffer zone protecting Western Europe from new migrations. As Sandra Lavenex (2001: 37–8) puts it, a major problem in the institution of new Eastern border controls is ‘the freedom of movement of the vast ethnic minorities spread over a number of neighbouring countries like, for example, the Hungarians in Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Serbia and the Ukraine’. There is a real danger that historical long-standing economic and cultural ties in the region – as well as with Eastern and Southern neighbours – will be badly damaged. The region’s distinctive transcultural character (as a unique zone of passage) would then finally become a thing of the past. Transcultural possibilities in the region must again become a key issue for governments in Eastern Europe to address – and not just for the region’s sake, but because they are now crucial to the broader politics of European enlargement, synchronization and democratization. The proliferation of transnational mobilities and transnational social spaces – West and East – has mounted a significant challenge to this essentializing conception of culture. What it has reintroduced is the idea of complexity and non-congruity into our imagination of what cultures are. Through the cultural shifts associated with transnationalism, we are again reminded of what cultures actually are, how they are ‘formed through complex dialogues and interactions with other cultures; that the boundaries of cultures are fluid, porous, and contested’ (Benhabib, 2002: 184). Transnational migrations have given rise to new transcultural fields that cannot easily be confined within the container spaces of national cultures, and cannot therefore be conceived as the cultural property – the exclusive property – of any one particular group. The development of new transcultures and of transcultural diversities therefore opens up new challenges and new possibilities for cultural policy.


Transcultural diversity and European public culture The formation of new transnational spaces has brought to light a new pattern of cultural diversity that can usefully be named ‘transcultural’ diversity. In fact, this is not an entirely new phenomenon. For, as Andreas Wimmer and Nina Glick Schiller (2002: 302) quite rightly remind us, the modern world has actually always been transnational: ‘Rather than a recent offspring of globalisation, transnationalism appears as a constant of modern life, hidden from a view that was captured by methodological nationalism.’ Nonetheless, as a consequence of the national bias, we may say that the reality of transnational and transcultural phenomena was for long obscured, and now appears to be a new presence in the world. The concept of ‘transcultural diversity’ points to the creation of a European space conceived in terms of a different kind of cultural configuration. It may be characterized in terms of cultural porosity and fluidity operating across space, rather than in terms of a landscape of boundaries containing sedentary communities living inside national jurisdictions. It arises out of ongoing cross-frontier movements of people that continually renew the landscape of cultural diversity in national jurisdictions. It creates culturally diverse groups and networks linked to a number of different national jurisdictions, through a variety of coexisting vital interests (birth, work, marriage, family, and so on). And it favours sustaining plural cultural identities and different loyalties over the desire to identify and achieve specific equality status as a fixed minority in any particular state. As such, transcultural diversity presents new and difficult challenges both for national cultural agendas and for those concerned with cultural policy and politics in a new Europe. The crucial point is that transcultural diversity has by now become an integral aspect of the social landscape of Europe. Transnational and transcultural flows and connections are no longer exceptional – indeed, one might even say that they are now the norm, or at least they are rapidly becoming so. They constitute the material out of which European culture and identity must now be elaborated. Transcultural diversity must therefore be at the heart of European cultural policy concerns. Many aspects of democracy, cohesion and inclusion now have to be addressed at this transcultural level. Of course, this will mean acknowledging and dealing with the disturbing and problematical aspects in the new transcultural dynamics (it is clear that the dynamics behind some forms of mobility – in the irregular economy, for example, and in various forms of criminal activity associated with

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trafficking – are deeply problematical and promote what might be called negative diversity). But what I focus on here are some of the positive aspects of transcultural diversity, the ways in which it may come to be seen as a social and democratic resource – an essential European resource – to be sustained and enhanced through cultural policy intervention. We might say that there is no Europeanness without transculturalism: it is now the sine qua non in thinking about the meaning of Europe. Transcultural diversity and diversity policy actually take the European agenda to a new level, taking complexity as a given and also as an asset for Europe. In his book, Europe(s), Jacques Attali invokes the idea (somewhat rhetorically, it must be conceded) of Europe – an enlarged Europe – as ‘a space without frontiers, from Ireland to Turkey, from Portugal to Russia, from Albania to Sweden’. Such a Europe should, he continues, ‘privilege the nomad over the sedentary dweller; generosity of spirit over solipsism; tolerance over identity; in sum, multiple belongings over exclusion’ (quoted in Sloterdijk, 2003: 84). It is to this radical conception of a European public space – one that seeks to move beyond old certainties – that the principle of transcultural diversity also connects. Through the 1990s, the objective in cultural diversity policy was to construct public spaces in which the diversity or heterogeneity of the national population were made apparent and visible. This might be in terms of the representation and participation of the overall population in the mediated public space of national broadcasters. Or it might be in terms of access and involvement of both mainstream and minority populations in cultural venues (concert halls, theatres, galleries, for example). At whichever level, the objective was to promote spaces reflecting the national diversity, and to give all groups an equal sense of presence in, and ownership of, public space. Transnational developments have now made things a great deal more complicated. Cultures are giving way to transcultures, and cultural diversity is increasingly a transnational matter. For many people now, the national cultural space is too circumscribed, and they express the wish to participate in different cultural spaces within (and beyond) Europe. This might be in terms of artists or musicians seeking to collaborate in multicultural initiatives. For those with a certain cultural capital, it might be in terms of travelling to exhibitions or concerts in Rome or Berlin or Prague. For many migrants, it might be in terms of watching Arabic or Indian or Chinese satellite television channels. Through such developments as these, transculturalism is becoming more and more ordinary and familiar. And there are, of course, significant and important consequences arising from


this process, in which both cultural production and consumption are migrating, as it were, away from the ‘home’ nation context. In the context of these transformations, quite new sorts of questions are being posed for European cultural policy. These questions are difficult ones, indeed. To move beyond the entrenched idea of a Europe of nation-states requires a considerable leap of the imagination. Two particular issues may be identified: the first concerns ‘space’, and the emerging transcultural geography of Europe; and the second is to do with ‘public’, and the meaning of public culture in Europe now.

The European cultural space The nation-state instituted a cultural space that was intended to serve as a common reference point for all its citizens. Citizens were members of a cultural community; they had a shared cultural heritage, and they participated in the ongoing cultural life of the nation. In the context of contemporary change, involving the proliferation of transnational cultural spaces, it becomes necessary to rethink this national model, predicated as it was on a relatively large degree of cultural sovereignty. Now we find that, for a significant number of people, many of their cultural reference points may be outside the country in which they reside. They may, for example, get their news from Al-Jazeera or their entertainment from Zee TV. And just as it is the case with economic activities that ‘the fact that a process happens within the territory of a foreign state does not necessarily mean it is a national process’ (Sassen, 2001: 187), so this may increasingly be the case in the cultural domain. As a number of commentators have observed, what is being disrupted is the familiar dualism between ‘foreign’/‘international’ and ‘domestic’/‘national’ (Anderson, 2002: 10; Bauman, 1998: 13; Beck, 2002: 19). In this context, the cultural space that populations living in any one European country participate in is a more complex affair than in the past. And the composition of the European cultural space seems more complex in its configuration. What now constitutes public space? What does this imply for diversity policies promoting access and participation? Access and participation in which public space? In this context, participation may be more about supporting transcultural connections. Access may be more about facilitating transnational mobilities. And visibility may mean visibility elsewhere. Issues of both cultural citizenship and cultural creativity move out of the gravitational field of

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the nation-state, and thus beyond its sphere of influence and competence. This transcultural dimension clearly poses new challenges to the elaboration and management of cultural diversity policy in Europe.

Public culture in Europe The challenges confronting public culture are not just geographical, concerning the more complex transnational spaces across which cultural practices are now occurring. There are also important issues concerning the principles underpinning cultural policy. What is the nature of the public culture that we should be constructing in the context of increasing transcultural developments? Within the national frame, public culture was essentially to do with national culture and the national public space. The principal goal of cultural policy was to facilitate participation in national cultural life. In the new European context, this can no longer be the primary aim. New cultural values and objectives must be elaborated that are more in line with contemporary cultural practices and realities. What are these realities? Two, in particular, are significant. First, the dialogic perspective associated with transcultural developments. Ulrich Beck (2002: 18) has referred to Nietzsche’s characterization of the modern era as ‘the Age of Comparison’. By this he meant an era in which ‘the various cultures of the world were beginning to interpenetrate each other’, and involving a logic according to which ‘ideas of every culture would be side by side, in combination, comparison, contradiction and competition in every place and all the time’. This principle of comparison provides the grounding principle for what Beck calls the ‘dialogic imagination’, characteristic of the cosmopolitan perspective. In contrast to the monologic national perspective, it represents ‘an alternative imagination, an imagination of alternative ways of life and rationalities, which include the otherness of the other. It puts the negotiation of contradictory cultural experiences into the centre of activities’ (Beck, 2002: 18). It is this kind of negotiation that is to be found in the transcultural experience. This is the experience of those who move – not just physically, but imaginatively – between cultural spaces, and whose cultural and social demands are translocal. They are people who are living ‘a kind of place-polygamy’, and who live ‘the clash of cultures within [their] own life’ Beck, 2002: 24, 35). Second, in addition to the dialogic perspective, we must also have regard to what has been referred to as ‘individuation’. ‘While culture was previously defined by values, norms and institutionalised customs,’ writes Alain Touraine


(1998: 150), ‘today it must be designed as a freedom which protects each group or individual’s will and capacity to produce and defend its own individuation’. This is not to be understood in terms of a simplistic polarisation between collective/social and individualistic/liberal values. It is not at all the advocacy of a new cultural neo-liberalism. What it points to, rather, is a new kind of social membership, in which the individual can be accepted as an active agent with respect to cultural choices. Rather than seeking to subordinate the individual to social and cultural integration, cultural practices are seen in terms of ‘the capacity to construct one’s own personal, coherent and meaningful experience’ (Touraine, 1998: 150, 155). And the exercise of this capacity is not feared as the harbinger of cultural fragmentation and dissolution. Let us call it a new kind of social contract, established on the principle of culture-as-creativity, rather than simply culture-as-belonging or cultureas-groupishness. What have been put on the agenda, then, are new cultural values and objectives; transcultural developments have changed the terrain on which to think about culture. We may consider this development in terms of a process in which a new cosmopolitan agenda has been initiated. This is not at all to say that the national cultural agenda has been displaced, it still remains extremely important. The point – to re-invoke the geological metaphor that I used earlier – is that the cosmopolitan frame has settled over the old national frame. It does not provide set or easy answers – we should, rather, think of its significance in terms of providing a new terrain of social and cultural debate (Vertovec and Cohen, 2002). What it does is to de-familiarize the national cultural imagination, and to provide a space for asking new questions about what is culturally at issue in the ongoing process of Europeanization. References Aksoy, Asu and Kevin Robins (2003) ‘Banal transnationalism: the difference that television makes’, in Karim H. Karim (ed.), The Media of Diaspora. London: Routledge, pp. 89–104. Albrow, Martin (1996) The Global Age. Cambridge: Polity. Anderson, Benedict (1983) Imagined Communities. London: Verso. Anderson, James (2002) ‘Questions of democracy, territoriality and globalisation’, in James Anderson (ed.), Transnational Democracy: Political Spaces and Border Crossings. London: Routledge, pp. 6–38. Bauböck, Rainer (2003) ‘Farewell to multiculturalism? Sharing values and identities in societies of immigration’, Journal of International Migration and Integration, vol. 3 no. 1: 1–16. Bauman, Zygmunt (1998) Globalisation: The Human Consequences. Cambridge: Polity.

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Index Notes: f = figure; n = note; bold = extended discussion or heading/word emphasized in main text.

Abu Dhabi TV 103(n2) ‘accumulated anxiety’ (Bauman) 181 action culturelle 107 action positive 72 ‘Active Community’ initiative 90 Ada Medjica (river island, Belgrade) 154(n19) adult education 137, 139 advertising 51, 96, 150, 247 Aeroplan bez motora (Engineless Aircraft) 136 aesthetics 242, 243, 246, 248 subaltern 245 universal 105 Afghanistan/Afghans 12, 263 Africa 14, 95, 128, 160, 164, 170, 194, 210, 226, 263 African nexus 21, 161 Afro-Caribbean community (London) 97 age 224, 255, 271 ‘Age of Comparison’ (Nietzsche) 279 Aillagon J-J. 68, 70, 78(n5–6) Aksoy, A. ix, 13–14, 17–18, 20, 193 Al-Jazeera 278 Albania/Albanians 44, 137, 233, 234, 235, 277 Albrow, M. 261 Algeria/Algerians 106, 125, 203 allo-ethnic community 234 alphabets 45, 48 ‘alternative art’ 134, 147, 153(n12) alternative cultures 246–9, 251–2(n27–9) Amin, A. 92 Amselle, J-L. 249(n2) Amsterdam 34, 39(n3), 40(n14) Amsterdam Treaty (1997) 27 anabasis 239 Anatolia 274 Anderson, B. 38, 185–6, 189, 257 Angelopoulos film (2004) 54(n10)

animateurs (socio-culture activists) 106–7 animation, socio-cultural 106 Anscombre, J.-C. 251(n15) anthropology 7, 38, 151 Antwerp 40(n14) Apostrof (Novi Sad) 136 Appadurai, A. 85, 86 Appolonatos, A. viii archives viii argument → conclusion chain 251(n16) argumentation procedure 235, 235f Ariane (EU publishing programme) 28 Armenia/Armenians 43, 47, 48, 53(n3) Armenia 2020 (report) 48 art 13, 50, 106, 107, 118, 148, 240 autonomous sphere 250(n7) dissident 134 effimere (ephemeral) 163 immigrant 117 institutionalization 18 intercultural 120, 121 international 121 political 132 radical 134, 137 traditional forms 48 ‘Western’ 114 see also high art Art Management in Turbulent Circumstances (Dragićević Šešić and Dragojević, 2005) 54–5(n17) art promoters 6, 98 artistic excellence/quality 114, 116, 119, 120 ‘artists’ viii, 6, 20, 46–7, 49, 52, 98, 111, 113–19, 135, 136, 137, 139, 141, 147, 153(n10), 154(n18), 160, 164, 166, 170, 171, 173, 174–5, 176(n6), 214, 218, 277 285

286 Index ‘artists’ – continued immigrant 13, 14, 15, 116, 117, 121, 123, 125, 159, 169 international 175 post-migrant 116, 117, 123, 125 arts 6, 59, 62, 68, 72, 73, 88, 136, 138, 152(n3) challenging the Yugoslav system 135 Arts Council (UK) 66, 67 arts subsidies 141 Ascherson, N. 102–3 Asia 98, 128, 160 Asia TV 103(n2) Asian Bride 96 Asian Gold 96 Asians 97, 103(n3) assimilation 10, 76, 202 Association of Erased Residents of Slovenia 250(n9) associations 8, 154(n18), 176(n6) autochthonous 168 cultural 18, 138, 167–8, 170 immigrant 167–8 religious 172 sport 138 Assyrians 53(n3) asylum-seekers 10, 102, 181 Athens 33, 34, 39(n12), 40(n14) Athens: ELIAMEP xii Attali, J. 277 audiences 98, 101, 114–19, 154(n19), 164, 166, 170–3, 206, 210, 211, 214, 216, 217, 218, 226, 237, 239, 247 immigrant or post-migrant 115 neo-folk 244, 245, 246, 251(n26) targeted 114–15, 116, 119 audio-visual sector 51, 58, 60, 63, 68, 78(n10), 225 Ausländer concept 123 Australia 8 Austria 7, 9, 19, 47, 67, 134, 139, 140, 143 far-right coalition government 146 neo-liberalism 141, 153(n12) Austria: Secretary for Culture 141 Austrian Constitution (1867) 138 Austrian State Treaty (1955) 138 authenticity 243 authoritative argument 234 authoritative conclusion 234

authoritative enunciator 234, 235f, 236 Avrasya (newspaper) 96, 97 Avrupa (newspaper) 96, 97 B4U Music 103(n2) Badinter Commission 53(n4) Bahai 165 Bajević, M. 47 Bajramović, Š. 241, 251(n25) Balancing Act: Twenty-One Strategic Dilemmas in Cultural Policy (Matarasso and Landry, 1999) 55(n17) Balkans 5, 15, 21, 45, 47, 54(n9), 142, 143, 235, 236, 243, 246, 274 Baltic countries 45 bandi 168 Bangladesh 95 Banja Luka 142 Banus, E. 29 Barbès Tour 125 ‘Baroque Lithuania’ (exhibition) 45 Basch, L. 281 Basque (people) 58–9 Bassett, K. 104 Bauböck, R. 87, 102–3, 197, 270 Bauerkämper, A. 133 Bauman, Z. 181, 182, 183, 261, 264 BBC Asian Network 96 Beck, M. 76, 79(n15) Beck, U. 198, 261, 272, 279 Bekemans, L. 27 bel canto 241 Belarus 43, 44, 46 Belgium 54(n11), 67, 203 Belgrade ix, 5, 14, 18–19, 21, 140–2, 146, 152, 153(n12–13), 154(n18), 243, 244 countering identity policies (1970–2000) 134–7, 152–3(n3–6) DIY cultural activity to TV serial Mile Against Tradition 147–51, 153–4(n16–20) empirical case-study 131 suburbs 148 Belgrade: Forum for Ethnic Relations 54(n5) Belgrade: ‘Frontiers – The Challenge of Interculturality’ (conference, 1996) 46, 54(n5) Belgrade: Museum of Contemporary Arts 147

Index Belgrade: ‘Room with Maps’ (exhibition, 1995) 46 Belgrade: Second International Danube Conference for Art and Culture (2003) 53(n1) Bennett, T. 65, 67 Bergen 36, 40(n14) Berlin 5, 14, 21, 40(n14), 75, 111, 142, 166, 174, 210, 218, 277 cultural diversity 120 cultural policy (institutional arrangements) 117–21, 128(n7) culture budget 122 immigrant organizations 128(n7) immigrant and postmigrant minorities 119 ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy (Kiwan and Kosnick) 15, 18, 105, 106, 117–21, 122–4, 128(n7–8) world-open (weltoffene) image 117–18 Berlin: Administration for City Development 109 Berlin: Commissioner for Integration and Migration (Beauftragter für Integration und Migration) 110, 120 Berlin: federal state senate 109 Berlin: House of Representatives (Abgeordnetenhaus Berlin) 121 Berlin: House of World Cultures (Haus der Kulturen der Welt, HKW) 118–19, 120, 121, 128(n7) adopted by federal government (2001) 118 mission statement 118 Berlin: Integrationswerkstatt (‘workshop for integration’) 120 Berlin: Neukölln district 120 Berlin: popdeurope festival (2003) 119 Berlin: Senate Administration for Education, Youth, and Sports 109 Berlin: Senate Administration for Science, Research, and Culture (Senatsverwaltung für Wissenschaft, Forschung und Kultur) 109, 123, 128(n8) Berlin: Senate’s Commissioner for Foreigner Affairs (Ausländerbeauftragte des Senats) 110, 120 Berlin: West 34–5

287

Berlin: Workshop of Cultures (Werkstatt der Kulturen, WdK, 1993–) 118, 119–21 budget 120 ‘forum for multicultural civil society’ 120 Karneval der Kulturen (annual carnival of cultures) 120 Best Value (UK) 90 Beurs 111–12, 207 Bibiˇc, B. 250(n5) Black Sea 47 Blanc, C.S. 281 Blok 45 (publisher) 153(n13) Bojanić, G. 251(n21) Bojanić, M. 251(n20–1) Bollywood 98 Bologna 40(n14) border control/security 85, 101, 158, 161, 275 ‘border crossing’ 43 Borka (Ljubljana-based break-beat DJ) 251(n27) Böse, M. 18–19, 218 Bosnia and Herzegovina 43, 44, 45, 49 Bosnians 45, 263 Bossi-Fini Law (No 189/2002) 158 boundaries/borders 11, 20, 45, 46–7, 48, 53, 54(n6), 87, 181, 182, 184, 198, 233, 258, 261, 265, 277 cultural 205 demarcation (Eastern Europe) 53(n4) ethnic 11, 205 global cities 91–2 imagined 85 national 182, 193 porous 261, 271 territorial 11, 45 bounded entities 91, 92 Bourdieu, P. 36, 201, 217 branchement (Amselle) 249(n2) brands 51, 150 Brazil 160 Breznik, M. 250(n5, n14) Britain see United Kingdom broadcasting organizations 146, 148 Bruges 40(n14) Brussels 40(n14) ‘Brussels’ (EU Headquarters) 28 Budapest 119, 268

288 Index Budapest Observatory Research 54(n16) Buddha-bar V (musical compilation 1993), 250(n4) Bulgaria/Bulgarians 5, 44, 47, 67, 274 Bund 109 Burgenland 138 Busch, B. ix, 18–19, 218 Busek, E. 53(n1) Cacace 38(n1) café song 238 Calhoun, C. 258, 273 Canada 8, 63, 67, 228 capital 20, 142, 201, 214, 226 capital accumulation 223, 224, 249(n1) systemic cycle 248, 252(n29) capital cities viii, 6, 95, 109, 118, 134, 174 Rome 160–2, 164, 201 transnational spaces 13–15 capitalism 133, 226, 228, 247, 249 anti-cultural 248 global 227, 237 neo-liberal 227 world system 237 capitalist class 133, 247 Caribbean 95, 194, 263 Carinthia 138 Castells, M. 148 Castles, S. 197, 198, 262, 266–70 Catholic social doctrine 191 CDU (Christlich-Demokratische Union) 75 Central Asia 244 ‘Central Eastern Europe’ 203 Central Europe 44, 54(n16), 132, 160 central government 89 Centre for Cultural Decontamination (1995) 136 centri sociali (social centres) 167 Cetinje 142 Charter for Diversity (France) 72 China 95, 160, 194, 263 Chinese (overseas) 96, 268 Chinese New Year 165 Chirac, J. 70–1 Christou, A. 205 churches 124 cinema/s ix, 116, 170, 225 Cité Nationale de l’Histoire de l’Immigration (history of

immigration museum, France) 128(n2) Cité Nationale de l’Histoire de l’Intégration (2007 forthcoming) 72 cities 21, 22, 24, 39(n13), 57, 85, 106, 137, 142, 144, 152, 163, 166, 170, 171, 192, 209, 216, 218, 245, 274 changing perspectives 91–3 geopolitical space 237 inter-connectivity 93 ‘less defined by territory and bounded culture’ 86, 87 marginal/peripheral 35–6 ‘space for cultural interaction’ 17, 94 see also capital cities; ECOC; global cities citizens 4, 77 Citizens’ Engagement and Public Services (ODPM, 2005) 88 citizenship 48, 77, 85, 86, 87, 92, 102, 185, 231 cosmopolitan 190 crisis at national level 88 cultural 278 cultural dimension 272 double 196 European 27, 183, 186, 189 multicultural 8, 10 policy 256 Slovene 250(n9) ‘socio-cultural category’ (Shore) 189–90 supranational 186, 189 city governance 101 city nexuses 94 civil society 49, 110, 134, 137, 145, 149, 153(n12), 240, 241 arts-based movements 135 authoritarian aspect 133 civility ‘not one of its essential characteristics’ (Bauerkämper) 133 ‘controversial’ term (Austria) 140 disciplinary base (Foucault) 133 global 140 international 140 new centres (Serbia and Montenegro) 136 social dialectic 133 theory 132–3 transnational 140

Index class/classes 18, 209 exploited 244 middle 10, 108 proto-capitalist 250(n14) upper 106, 108 working 74, 106, 107, 110, 136, 153(n16) class struggle 229, 241, 250(n14) cultural 242 Club Asia 96 Coen, F.E. 164 collateralismo 168 colonial links 97, 160, 161, 211, 214, 263 colonial population 193–4, 263 ˇ Colovi´ c, I. 238 COMECON 186 commodification 149, 228, 229–30, 237, 247 commodity fetishism (Marx) 228, 248 ‘common values’ 61, 66 communication/s 21, 30, 43, 52, 144, 207, 226, 264 communism 106 Communist Party (Yugoslavia) 152(n3) Communist Union (Yugoslavia) 152(n3) communitarianism 71 Community of Cultures: European Union and Arts (2002) 59–60 compact discs 170, 215 companies 72 large 205 transnational 223, 229 Compendium of Cultural Policies of Europe (website) 48, 55(n18) competitiveness 102 concert halls 50, 108, 109, 111, 146, 166, 277 concerts viii, 143–4, 164, 167, 170–2, 174, 206, 213, 277 Congo 126 Conseil Français du Culte Musulman (CFCM, 2003–) 9 Conseil Supérieur de l’Audiovisuel (Audiovisual Authority) 72 Conservative Party (Austria) 153(n11) Conservative Party (UK) 88 consumer culture 149–50, 191 consumerism 153(n16) consumers 250(n3)

289

consumption 68, 95, 101 ‘container space’ (Pries) 197 context 201, 210 national 68, 255–6 nexus social 237 control agenda (Italy) 159 Convention on Minority Languages 55(n20) Copenhagen 40(n14) Core Sociological Dichotomies (Jenkins, 1998) 55(n17) Cork 40(n14) cosmopolitanism 15, 46, 50, 52, 103, 134, 163, 166, 176, 185, 197, 200–1, 202, 205, 211, 268 constructing the cosmopolitan 214–16, 219–20(n5) implications of nexus aspect 21 ‘post-nationalist’ 189 theories 207–9 cosmopolitanism (European): towards a transcultural policy 22, 254–83 change of perspective 255 chapter argument 256, 273 chapter objective 257 contemporary realities 279–80 European cultural space 278–9 ‘fundamental principle’ called into question 270 integrationist approach (difficulties and limitations) 255–6 key developments 254–6 limitations of national frame 256, 257–61, 262, 266–7, 268, 269, 271, 273, 279, 280 ‘minority’ issues 254 paradigm shift 261, 269, 271 public culture in Europe 279–80 transcultural diversity and European public culture 276–8 transnational mobilities and migrations 261–70 transnational social spaces and transcultural diversity 270–5 transnational sociality 263–7 cosmopolitanization 198 Council of Europe (COE, 1949–) ix, 7, 25–6, 48, 49, 52, 58, 62, 63, 64, 140, 256 cultural policy evaluation programme 249–50(n3) international organizations and the social 65–8

290 Index Council of Europe: Council for Cultural Cooperation 67–8 Transversal Studies scheme 67 Council of Europe: Programme in Evaluation of Cultural Policies in Bosnia and Herzegovina 43 Council of Europe: Rapporteur Group on Education, Culture, Youth, and Sport 64 Council of Ministers 33, 39(n13) country of origin 12, 113, 170, 173, 201, 202, 204–9, 211, 214, 217, 218 ‘society of origin’ 265, 269 country of settlement 202, 205, 206, 208, 218 ‘host country/society’ 12, 15, 75, 116, 196, 204–5, 265, 268 multiple 207 Cracow (Kraków) 35, 40(n14) creative arts/industries 111, 139, 141 creativity 14, 49, 90, 149–50, 278–9 crime 261, 276 Croatia/Croats 5, 44, 51, 138 ‘Croatian spring’ (1971) 152(n3) cultural activism 108 cultural activities immigrant 13, 122 outside realms of public subsidies/private sponsorship 131 transnationally organized 151 cultural agents culture-oriented 223, 224f mainstream (dominant) 223, 224f, 242, 242f mainstream culture-oriented 225–6, 227, 249–50(n3) marginal (subaltern) 223, 224f, 241, 242, 242f marginal culture-oriented 226, 227, 250(n5) marginal profit-oriented 226, 227, 250(n4) profit-oriented 223, 224f cultural capital 14, 20, 35, 93, 195, 201, 202, 214, 217, 277 cultural centres 136, 137 cultural constructions 231, 250(n8) cultural consumption 14, 99, 132, 177(n8), 278 ‘cultural diplomacy’ 43 cultural difference 123, 124

cultural diversity 4, 6–7, 8, 17–18, 29, 44, 48, 49, 63, 69, 70, 71, 73, 94, 121, 139, 158, 160, 184, 197, 203, 209, 225, 226, 229, 230, 233, 250(n6), 272 ‘ambiguous, difficult to pin down, contradictory’ 57 concept 17 contemporary/historical 67–8 EU enlargement context 60–1 limitations of the national frame 256, 257–61, 262, 266–7, 268, 269, 271, 273, 279, 280 macro-political understanding 66 ‘multiple definition’ 65–6 new conceptual frame 255 policy 256 regional (sub-national) 67 Rome 162–6, 176(n1–5) shift of geographical frame 255, 268 ‘simplistic majority/minority opposition’ 255 social understanding 67 transnational/transcultural perspectives 256 urban strategies of third sector 166–9 cultural diversity: discourse-analytical approach 57–81 case studies 59 challenges 77 constructing European semantic fields 17, 59–77, 77–9(n1–16) linguistic and pragmatic contexts 57 cultural exception 227, 250(n6) cultural exceptionalism 86 cultural exclusion 250(n6) ‘cultural fundamentalism’ (Stolcke) 188 cultural fields 100 cultural flows 93, 94, 117, 118, 119 cultural hybridity 119, 123 cultural imperialism/homogenization US-led 31, 68, 69 cultural industries 62, 63, 66, 68, 70, 73, 191 directional distinction 223, 224f market-driven strategies 16 national 225 peripheral 223–4, 224f, 227, 236–7 positional opposition 223, 224f

Index cultural initiatives immigrant participation (Rome) 169, 170–4, 176–7(n6–8) cultural integration 163, 174–5 definition 158 Italy 158 cultural markets deregulation 225 cultural pluralism 65 cultural policy 48, 54(n12), 176, 189, 227, 247, 249, 250(n3), 251(n28), 257, 274, 279 conceptual and theoretical perspectives 6 constructed community-driven 48–9, 53, 54(n9) despite and beyond (Vienna and Belgrade) 131–56 discourse-analytical perspective 17 ethnic-based 53 Europeanization 16 inclusive approach 48 national 6 reflexive approach 7 state monopoly 24 terminology 6 territorially-driven 53 territory-driven 48–9 tool of distinction 47–9, 54(n8–14) top-down 144 urban and metropolitan perspective 6 cultural policy: Berlin and Paris 105–30 Berlin: institutional arrangements 117–21, 128(n7) Berlin: ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy 122–4, 127–8, 128(n8) case studies 106, 113 chapter aim 127 chapter structure 105–6 conclusions 127–8 France: shifts in perspective re immigrants’ ‘cultures’ 111–12, 128(n2) France: socio-culture in context 106–7 Germany: shifts in perspective re immigrants’ ‘cultures’ 109–11 Germany: socio-culture in context 108–9, 128(n1) institutional arrangements 112–21, 128(n3–7)

291

‘key issue’ 105 Paris: institutional arrangements 113–17 ‘whiteness’ 121–7, 127–8, 128(n8–12) Paris: ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy 124–7, 128(n9–12) solution to problem 127–8 cultural policy: overview of issues (Europe) 1–81 cultural diversity (discourse-analytical approach) 57–81 imagined or real divides 16, 43–56, 68 logic of Europeanization 24–42 cultural policy (despite and beyond): third- and fourth-sector practices and strategies (Vienna and Belgrade) 131–56 Belgrade: DIY cultural activity to TV serial Mile Against Tradition 147–51, 153–4(n16–20) Belgrade: countering identity policies (1970–2000) 134–7, 152–3(n3–6) case studies 133 chapter structure 131–2 some conclusions for cultural policy development 151–2 third-sector practice in city cultures (Belgrade and Vienna) 134–40, 152–3(n3–9) third-sector practice and civil society in theory 132–3, 152(n1–2) transformation of third cultural sector and emerging fourth-sector practices 140–51, 153–4(n10–20) Vienna: from ‘culture for all’ to diversity activities of third sector (1970–2000) 137–40, 153(n7–9) Vienna case studies: ‘gastarbajteri’ and fourth-sector practices of EMAP radio 142–6, 153(n14–15) cultural policy agents nexus-relevant (three groups) 223–7, 249–50(n1–5) Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity (UK, 2001) 67

292 Index cultural practices 210–11 civic 240, 251(n22) commodification 229–30, 237 informal/self-organization 19 socially-committed 240, 251(n22) top-down/bottom-up perspectives 19 cultural producers 14, 226 cultural production 132, 166, 207, 227, 278 civic versus commercial 240, 241f, 241 commercial 240, 251(n22) high versus low 240, 241f, 241, 242, 242f immigrant and postmigrant 109, 110–11, 124, 125, 127 imported 241 institutional arrangements 112–21, 128(n3–7) ‘other’ 122 popular 240 schematization 242, 242f socialized contemporary means 226 transnational 207 typology 241f cultural products 70, 99 cultural promoters viii, 167, 168, 169 cultural promotion 99 ‘Cultural Routes’ (Council of Europe programme) 45 cultural space European 29–33, 39(n11), 256, 261–2, 278–9 mainstream 145 pan-European 3, 4 cultural specificity 250(n6) culturalization 230, 232, 251(n23) definition 250(n7) culture ix, x, xi, 27, 50, 58, 107, 132, 138, 152(n3), 181, 185, 192, 194, 208, 265, 276 access 250(n3) alternative 224f, 224, 226, 227, 250(n5) anthropological concept 38 autonomous sphere 250(n7) bi- or multi-culturalism 21 ‘block’ notion 59, 64, 70 bounded 258, 259, 273 ‘closed-box’ concept 206–7

concepts/conception 117, 118, 123, 273, 275 ‘container model’ 260, 268, 269, 272 definitions 24, 59 dominant 51, 217, 218 ‘ethnic minority’ 57 Greek, Roman, Christian 4 homogenization 225 immigrant/migrant 63, 127 influenced by political changes 45 insider/outsider 13 ‘internationalization’ 163 national 3, 20, 197, 209, 225, 257, 265, 271, 275 politicization (Rome) 168 policy debates 107 post-migrant 59, 63 public 279–80 singular versus plural 121, 127 social construction 257 state-interventionist 224f transnational migrant 260 urban 127 vehicle of political expression 141 see also high culture culture (French) 6, 112 ‘culture for all’ (Austria) 137 culture des banlieues 112 Culture and Creativity: Next Ten Years (DCMS, 2001) 90 ‘Culture of Ibar Magistral Road’ 148, 153(n16) culture shock 211 Culture 2000 (EU) 28, 31, 33, 39(n7–10, n13), 54(n16) ‘emblematic actions’ 33 ‘Culture pour la ville – cultures de la ville’ (France) 112 culture-as-belonging 280 culture-as-creativity 280 culture-as-groupishness 280 ‘cultures’ of immigrants: shifts in perspective France 111–12, 128(n2) Germany 109–11 cultures immigrées 112 cultures urbaines 112 Cvijanovic, Z. 154(n20) Cyprus 142 Czech Republic 35, 143 Czechoslovakia 134 Czechs 138

Index Daara J (rap group) 126 daily/everyday life 90, 91, 146, 192, 201, 202, 212, 216–17 Dama (musician) 215 dance 167, 173, 212, 219(n3) hip-hop 126 Danube region 47 Dayton agreements (1996) 45 de-totalized nexal configurations (concept) 226 Debord, G. 249 decentralization 101, 162 decision parameters 140 decision-making 27, 168 Declaration on Cultural Diversity (COE, 2000) 65, 256 ‘co-existence of different cultural practices’ 64 Declaration of European Identity (1973) 26 Declaration on European Union (CEC, 1983) 27 Dede, M. 119 Delanty, G. 182, 183, 187, 191 Delo 233 Delors, J., 27 democracy 35, 55(n19), 61, 63, 132, 183, 190, 276 cosmopolitan 103, 188 multiparty 47, 51 ‘voter apathy’ 87 Democratic Party of Albanians (Macedonia), 233 démocratie culturelle 112 démocratisation culturelle 107 democratization 108, 135, 154(n18), 163 cultural 137 demography 4, 61, 274 DGX 27, 33, 39(n13) dialectical reversal 248 dialectics, social 237 ‘dialogic imagination’ (Beck) 279 dialogue (intercultural) 61, 64, 65, 123, 124, 167, 174, 176 diaspora, beyond the: transnational practices as transcultural capital 200–22 approaches to study of migrant populations 200 chapter aims 200, 210 chapter content 201, 205–6 data 210

293

diasporic identity (development) 205–6 empiricism 200, 201, 203 ‘theoretically-informed practices’ underpinning chapter 210 transcultural capital (implication for cultural policy) 216–18 transnational practices 209–16, 219–20(n3–5) transnationalism 202–9, 219(n1–2) diaspora nationalism 203–6, 219(n1) diaspora theories 203–6, 219(n1–2) diasporas 12–13, 20, 21, 48, 142, 200, 201, 202, 203–6, 216, 217, 219(n1–2), 226, 266 constructing the diasporic 211–12, 219(n3) German 203 Hungarian 203, 219(n1) Jewish 219(n1) ‘Maghrebi and African’ 14 Malagasy 212–13 ‘new global’ (Cohen) 264 Serbian and Bosnian 148 dictatorship 55(n19) Die Welt 74 difference de-ethnicization 255 ‘key concept’ 68 ‘resented’ 258 ‘difference agenda’ (Italy) 159 Differing Diversities: [Transversal Study of Theme of] Cultural Policy and Cultural Diversity (Bennett, 2001) 67–8, 79 dilemma/false dilemma 235–6 Direction de l’Action Culturelle et de l’Information (France) aims and objectives 116 Direction des Populations et des Migrants (DPM, France), 116 Direction Régionale des Affaires Culturelles (DRAC): Île-de-France 124–5, 128(n11) disability 65, 271 discourse xi, 17, 20, 31, 43, 127, 158–9, 166, 210, 211 anti-racist 122 cultural 44 EU 32 French Republican 69 hegemonic 236 subordinated 232

294 Index discourse – continued superior versus subaltern 234, 235 universalist 233 discourse-analytical approach (to cultural diversity) 57–81 discrimination 57, 158, 159, 176, 234, 235, 245 anti-discrimination policies 64, 65, 67, 139 dissidents 132, 134 diversification of mainstream 145 diversité culturelle 69, 72 Diversity and Cohesion: New Challenges for Integration of Immigrants and Minorities (Council of Europe, 2000) 65 Dnevnik 235 documents 6, 17, 30, 31, 38, 43, 52, 57, 58, 59, 67–8, 73 European Commission 65 official 19, 159 Doel, M. 91, 92, 93 Donnedieu de Vabres, R. 68, 71–2, 78(n7–11) Draft European Parliament Resolution on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity (2003) 62 Dragićević Šešić, M. ix, 15, 16–17, 18–19, 54(n6), 54–5(n17), 60, 218 Dragojević, S. x, 15, 16–17, 54–5(n17), 60 Drnovšek, J. 235 Dublin 34, 40(n14) Dubois, V. 107 Ducrot, O. 251(n15, n17) ¨ Duvell, F. 206 East Aegean 47 Eastern Europe ix, 4, 7, 16, 43–6, 49, 50–1, 51–2, 132, 160, 194, 237, 254, 265, 273, 274, 275 border demarcation (EU role) 53(n4) échange différé (Mauss) 228 ECOC see European City of Culture economic growth 12 economic logic 101 Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC): Transnational Communities programme xi, xii, 202 economics 102

ECSC (European Coal and Steel Community) 25 Ecuador 160 education 101, 116, 159, 165, 176(n7), 209 ‘intercultural’ 158 éducation populaire 106 Efah-Interarts (author) 39(n11) Einwanderungsland (country of immigration) 73 elected mayors 87 elections 10, 213 Eleventh of September (2001) 10–11, 12 elites 5, 7, 9, 38, 52, 106, 134, 164, 166, 175, 192, 268 elitism 69, 108 EMAP radio fourth-sector practices 143–4, 146, 152 embassies 169, 172, 206 ‘embedded statism’ (Taylor) 259 empiricism 43 beyond the diaspora 200, 201, 203 cities and transnational spaces 13 citizenship 189 cultural policy in Berlin and Paris 106 Europe (diversity and cosmopolitanism) 198 European reality 272 third- and fourth-sector practices 131 employment 28, 51, 64, 102, 116, 157, 158, 160, 162, 164, 171, 174, 195, 209, 213, 244 empowerment 90, 102, 145, 267, 272 ‘enclaves’ 45–6 England 88, 89, 90 entertainment 115, 237, 244, 248, 278 environmentalism 167 EQUAL (European funding scheme) 19, 139 equal opportunities 8, 72 équipements culturels de proximité (neighbourhood-level cultural facilities) 124, 128(n9) ‘erasure’ (Slovenia) 250(n17) Erick, M. see Manana, E. escamotage (‘conjuring away, evading, filching, retraction’) rhetorical 32

Index Estate Romana (Roman Summer festival) 163, 164 ethnic cleansing 47, 259 ethnic diversity 65, 117, 203 ethnic groups 46, 110–11, 117 Ethnic Groups Act (Austria, 1976) 138 ethnic minorities 51, 67, 71, 121, 137–8, 203–4, 218, 219(n1), 272, 275 ‘visible’ 72 ethnicity 48, 49, 100, 138, 160, 173, 214, 233, 245, 251(n14), 267 ‘imaginary nationhood’ 47 ethno-culture 14, 18, 166 ethnocentrism/ethnocentricity 46, 50, 52 ethnographic perspective 201, 207, 210 Eurasia 97 Euro teuro 5 Eurocentrism 58 Europe 95, 97, 118, 132, 147, 148, 153(n16), 161, 201, 205, 209, 211, 212, 213, 216, 217, 235, 236, 237, 244, 246, 251(n27), 257, 259, 260, 261, 274 African migrants 14 ‘attempt to re-imagine/re-think’ 4, 192 ‘cosmopolitan’ agenda 22, 198 cultural landscape ‘irrevocably transformed’ 268 cultural meaning 256 cultural policy: overview of issues 1–81 empirical reality 272 eve of twenty-first century 3–7, 22(n1) idea of 4 internal demography 4 meaning 271 ‘national subversion’ 183 ‘pre-national past’ 184 public culture 276–8, 279–80 social transformation 193 ‘somewhere in and around us’ 44–7, 53–4(n1–7) ‘third countries’ 36, 40(n13) transnational 191–5 utopian/dystopian picture 44 see also transcultural Europe Europe: challenge of migrant transnationalism 181–99

295

chapter purpose 184 European anxieties 181–5 European diversities 185–91 paradigm shift 185 transnational migrations/ transnational Europe 191–5 Turkish migrants in Europe (trajectory) 195–7 Europe(s) (Attali, no date) 277 ‘European added value’ 28 European Capital of Culture 39(n12) European Charter on Regional and Minority Languages 70–1 European City of Culture (ECOC) 16, 24, 31, 32, 39(n7) being and becoming 33–7, 39–40(n12–14) ‘highlights differences’ 35 ‘ideology-critique approach’ 36 listed 40(n14) ‘mobilizing metaphor’ 35 precise title 37 symbolic dimension 38 see also global cities European Commission viii, 7, 26, 30, 59–60, 187, 225, 256 cultural policy documents (1977, 1982, 1987) 26–7 employment and social affairs 65 European Community 26, 27, 55(n19) presidency 34 European Community Conference on Yugoslavia 53(n4) European Community Guidelines on Recognition of New States in Eastern Europe and in Soviet Union 53(n4) European Constitution 59, 61, 70 European cultural bureaucracy 49, 54(n16) European Cultural Convention (1954) 25–6 European Cultural Foundation 49, 53(n2) ‘European dimension’ 37–8 European diversities 185–91 European Economic Community 25, 26, 186 European foundation (1954) 39(n3) European heritage 29, 31

296 Index European integration 44, 53, 58, 182, 183, 187 cultural policy 25–9, 38–9(n1–10) culturalist versus political base 188–9 founding tensions 188–9 macro-political framework 64 neo-functionalist approach 25 ‘Europe of regions’ (slogan) 3–4 European Parliament 26, 39–40(n13), 62–3 European Parliament: Committee on Culture, Youth, Education, Media, Sport 62 European periphery 5, 226 European semantic fields 17, 59–77, 77–9(n1–16) European Commission: employment and social affairs 65 from European to national and metropolitan levels: shifting semantic fields in France and Germany 68–77, 77–9(n1–16) European Union and culture 59–63 European Union institutions and the social 64–5 international organizations and the cultural 63–4 international organizations and the social 65–8 European space 264 ‘complex and fluid’ 184 new kind 261 European unification 3, 16, 185 European Union 10, 20, 25, 34, 58, 66, 77, 170, 183, 187, 188, 192, 225, 228, 249–50(n3), 271 budget 22(n1) candidate countries (2000) 35 culture budget 27, 39(n6, n9) cultural diversity 60–1 cultural policy 189 enlargement 3, 4, 5, 7, 16–17, 26, 40(n13), 49, 60–1, 181, 275 exclusion from possible membership 53(n1) imagined or real divides 16, 43–56, 68 ‘nation-state enlarged’ 185–6 post-nationalist thinkers 190 structural funds 29, 39(n6, n10) waiting list 44

European Union: International Conference on Cultural Diversity (2004) 78(n7) European Union: Minister of Foreign Affairs 185 European Union Constitutional Treaty (2004) 4–5, 22(n1), 185 ‘rather difficult’ ratification process 39(n5) European Union and culture 59–63 cultural diversity in context of EU enlargement 60–1, 78(n7–8) European Commission 59–60 European Parliament 62–3 European Union Fifth Framework viii ‘Changing City Spaces: New Challenges to Cultural Policy in Europe’ (project) viii, x, 17 European Union institutions and the social 64–5 European Union Structural Funds 101, 102 Europeanization 44, 45, 46, 47, 183, 187, 191, 272, 280 Europeanization of cultural policy: logic 16, 24–42 chapter aims 26 cultural policy in European integration 25–9, 38–9(n1–10) ECOC programme: being and becoming 33–7, 39–40 (n12–14) local content in a European frame 37–8 locating the ‘European cultural space’ 29–33, 39(n11) objectives 29 policy style 30 rationale 29 top-down programmes/bottom-up initiatives 30–1 Europeanness 4, 61, 183, 277 Europhilia 236 Eurovision song contest 250(n4) Eurowall 49–52, 54–5(n15–18) exception culturelle 63, 69 ‘exclaves’ 46 exhibitions viii, 45, 46, 142–3, 144–6, 148, 153(n14–15), 167, 277 ‘existentiality of nationalism’ (Hedetoft) 271

Index Faist, T. 200 family 136, 150, 160–1, 171, 173, 195, 196, 197, 212, 229, 276 Family of Clear Water 153(n13) family reunification 111, 161 fear 198 federalism 54(n11) feminism 167 Festival of Asia (August 2003) 98 Festival de l’Imaginaire (February to April) 114, 115 festivals 116–17, 125, 154(n19), 163–4, 165, 171, 172, 174, 206 FIAT (Podgorica) 136 Fiesta (world music) 164 film viii, 51, 167 first sector 151 Fischer, M. 128(n8) Florence 34, 40(n14) Florence: European Institute iii, xi folk-dancing 110 folklore 51 folklorization 144 Fonds d’Action Sociale (FAS, France) 116, 128(n5) later renamed FASILD 116 Fonds d’Action et de Soutien pour l’Intégration et la Lutte contre les Discriminations (FASILD, 1958–) 72, 115–17, 125, 127, 128(n4–6) Cultural Action department 116 originally known as FAS 116, 128(n5) translation 128(n4) food 165, 195 football 172 forced marriages 8 Fordist system 205 Fortress Europe 4, 142, 182 ‘no longer viable response’ 269 Foucault, M. 133, 231 fourth sector 137, 141 Belgrade 147–51, 153–4(n16–20) commodification 149–50 ‘Culture of Ibar Magistral Road’ 148, 153(n16) key elements 140, 152 Mandić, M. 147–8 Mile Against Tradition 150–1, 152, 154(n20) music and art 148–9, 154(n17–18) ‘non-commercial, non-governmental, and

297

emancipated from third sector’ 131 ‘not restricted to cultural field’ 150 practice 140 fracture sociale (France) 112 France x, 7, 10, 12, 55(n20), 58, 62, 105, 108, 121, 125, 143, 161, 194, 203, 207, 210, 212, 214, 216, 217, 218, 228, 244, 250(n4), 263 cultural policy documents 54(n12) cultural protectionism 64 EU referendum (2005) 4, 22(n1) ‘headscarf affair’ (1989) 9 immigrants’ ‘cultures’: shifts in perspective 111–12, 128(n2) ministers of foreign trade 71 Republican tradition 124 shifting semantic fields 68–73, 77–8 (n1–12) social modernism 191 socio-culture in context 106–7 France: Ministry for Cultural Affairs (1959–) 106–7 France: Ministry of Culture 112, 116, 128(n2) Rencontres de la Villette festival brochure 126, 128(n12) France: Ministry of Culture 68–73, 77–8 (n1–12) France: Ministry of Culture: Délégation au Développement et aux Affaires Internationales (DDAI) 128(n6) France: Ministry of Culture: Délégation au Développement et à l’Action Territoriale (DDAT) 116, 128(n6) France: Ministry of Culture: Département des Affaires Internationales 115 France: Ministry of Culture and Communication/s 63, 115, 126, 128(n11) France: Ministry of Education 128(n2) France: Ministry of Education and Research 73 France: Ministry of Employment, Work and Social Cohesion 128(n2) France: Ministry of Foreign Affairs 115, 126 France: Ministry of Social Affairs 72, 116 France: Ministry of Social Cohesion 72–3

298 Index France: National Assembly 69, 77–8(n1–4) Francophone Africa 210 Fraser, N. 143 free market 225, 227, 228, 229 free trade 188, 229 freedom/liberty 50, 60, 61 freedom of expression 152(n3), 225 freedom of movement 275 Freedom Party (Austria) 9, 140, 153(n11) French Music Export Office 126 French Revolution: bicentenary (1989) 34 Fresh Boost for Culture in European Community (CEC, 1987) 27 Freudenberg, A. 121 friends 150, 213 Frisch, M. 74–5 Front National (France) 112 Frontiers – The Challenge of Interculturality (1997) 54(n5) functionalism 102 funding 18, 19, 29, 33, 49, 101, 105, 109, 111, 112, 116–17, 120–3, 125, 127, 138, 143, 148, 163, 165, 167–71, 246 Gaîté Lyrique (Paris) project 124 ´ Galasinski, D. ii, xi galleries 166, 277 Gambino, F. 251(n13) ‘garage’ activities 149 ‘Gastarbajteri: Forty Years of Labour Migration to Austria’ (exhibition) 142–3, 144–6, 148, 153(n14–15) Gastarbeiter (guest-workers) 74–5, 153(n14), 158, 190 home-nostalgia 238, 251(n20) songs 238, 251(n20) Gastarbeiter culture 148 GATS (General Agreement on Trade in Services) 19 Gellner, E. 186, 250(n8) gender 139, 255, 271, 273 Geneva 39(n3) Genoa 40(n14) genre-grid 237 genre-transformation 238–9, 251(n18–21) geographical distance 207 geopolitics 134 Georgia 43 Germans 47, 203

Germany xi, 7, 12, 63, 105, 121, 123, 194, 203, 250(n4) citizenship law 9, 22(n3) cultural heritage 75 federal government 109, 118 immigrants’ ‘cultures’: shifts in perspective 109–11 Leitkultur debate 74–7, 79(n13–16) naturalization rules 9 reunification 35 shifting semantic fields 68–73, 79(n13–16) socio-culture in context 108–9, 128(n1) Germany: Constitution 75 Germany: Eastern 35 Germany: Federal Commission/er for Migration, Refugees and Integration 76 Germany: West 74, 109 Gettoattack 153(n10) ghettoes/ghettoization 51, 200, 208 Giddens, A. 207 Gillespie, M. 209 Glasgow 35–6, 40(n14) ‘marginal city’ 36 Glick Schiller, N. 186, 199, 276 Glick Schiller, N., et al. (1995) 265, 281 Basch, L. 281 Blanc, C.S. 281 global cities/city-regions 85, 86, 91–2, 103, 193 ‘bounded container’ concept (rejected) 91, 92 ‘networks of heterogenous practices’ 92 new developments (important aspects) 92–3 ‘new political space’ 102 see also inner cities global flows 142, 148, 260, 269 ‘globalisation of informality’ (Erder) 265 globalism 91 globality 261, 269 globalization 28, 58, 62, 69, 70, 86, 89, 91, 118, 149, 182, 256, 260, 261–2, 263, 269, 276 core-periphery integration 226 cultural dimension 119 neo-liberal 223, 227 peripheral (authentic aesthetics) 243

Index Goldblatt, D. 281 Goodhart, D. 268 ‘governmentality’ 230, 231–2, 233 governments 4, 7, 11, 28, 50, 51, 70, 136, 181, 182, 225, 229, 254–5, 258–9, 270, 272, 275 centre-left (Italy) 158 centre-right (Italy, 2001–) 158 France 69 left-wing coalitions (France) 68 Gramsci, A. 133, 230–1 Graz 40(n14) Greater London Authority (GLA) 94, 101 Greece 54(n9), 55(n19), 63, 237 ancient civilisation 34 Greek Macedonia 47 Greeks 47, 54(n10), 203, 274 Green Peas 153(n13) Gregorˇciˇc, M. 250(n5) Griffiths, R., et al. (2003) 89, 104 Bassett, K. 104 Smith, I. 104 Grillo, R. 159 Guardian 181 Guarnizo, L.E. 221, 282 Gucha music festival of trumpets 142 Guidance on Integrating Cultural and Community Strategies (DCMS) 89 Guram, guram (song) 154(n17) Habermas, J. 143, 190 Hajde, brate, da zapjevamo /Let us sing, brother (song) 251(n21) Halley, J. 122 Hamburg 268 Hardt, M. 133 hats 150 Hauptstadtkulturvertag (Capital City Culture Contract, 2005) 109 Haut Conseil à l’Intégration (France) 72, 112 health 158, 159, 163 Hedetoft, U. 271 hegemony 133, 260 resistance 146, 152 Held, D., et al. (1999) 261, 281 Goldblatt, D. 281 Perraton, J. 281 McGrew, A. 281 Helie, T. 39(n10) Helsinki 36, 40(n14) heritage preservation 176(n1)

299

hierarchies core-periphery 227 cultural 18, 105, 127, 166 cultural (‘unmarked’) 117, 122 high art 13, 108, 117, 218 high culture 14, 32, 58, 105, 107, 111, 112, 127, 128(n9), 164, 166, 173, 175, 239, 240, 245 Culture with a capital ‘C’ 114 high culture/socio-culture divide 18 Hindi singers 98 Hipfl, B. ix historiography 274 history 181 Hoare, R. 70 Hobbes, T. 133 hobbies 108 Hochkultur 109 Hollywood 237 Holmes, D.R. 191 Holston, J. 85, 86 ‘house literature’ (1990s) 137 housing 97, 116, 138, 158, 162 ‘accommodation’ 162, 164, 209, 213 Hubbard, P. 91, 92, 93 human capital 102 human rights 63, 103, 158, 232, 233 humanism 34 Hungarians 138, 203, 275 Hungary 134, 219(n1) IBC Tamil Radio 96 ideal-Ich 224 identitary communities 233 identity 3, 14, 24, 36, 38, 86, 149, 150, 184, 196, 225, 258, 276 bounded 273 collective 205, 272 cosmopolitan 197 cultural 13, 31–2, 45, 53, 123, 174, 185, 188, 190, 210, 213, 262 ethnic 18, 110, 135–6, 172, 204, 209 ethno-national 110 European 16, 26, 31, 32, 60, 61, 65, 189, 271 ‘hybrid’ 266 individual 148 local 38, 88 ‘lost’ 150, 152 Malagasy 218

300 Index identity – continued mechanism (state and attempt to reduce nexus) 231–6, 250–1(n9–17) multiple 31–2, 66, 209 national xii, 30, 190, 204, 206, 209, 218, 225–6, 260, 266, 268–9 personal 88 political 188 religious 135–6, 172 search for 148 social 18 social construction 257 transnational 205 identity art 114 identity construction mechanism 233, 251(n15) Self-Other 203–4 identity logic 100, 101 identity policies countered (Belgrade, 1970–2000) 134–7, 152–3(n3–6) identity politics 49, 69 ideological inversion 246 ideological ‘maps’ 21 ideological oppression 147 ideology xi, 225, 228, 246 illiteracy 171 image 50, 142 imaginaire 64, 186 national 257–8, 260 Imagined Communities: Reflections on Origins and Spread of Nationalism (Anderson, 1983) 185–6, 189 ‘imagined community’ (Anderson) 24, 38, 48, 185–6, 257, 258, 259, 261, 266, 269, 271 imagined or real divides 16, 43–56, 68 considerations for future 52–3, 55(n19–20) cultural policy as tool of distinction 47–9, 54(n8–14) differences in attitude 50, 54–5(n17–18) Europe somewhere in and around us 44–7, 53–4(n1–7) ‘key issue’ 53 other side of virtual Eurowall 49–52, 54(n15) ‘three pluralisms’ 47 who is to be excluded from ‘Europe’ 49–52, 54–5(n15–18)

immigrants 7–15, 18, 19–20, 60, 66, 73, 92, 102, 105, 107, 113, 115, 118, 121, 123, 137, 165, 166, 204, 218 citizen/non-citizen 231–2 clandestini (Italy) 172 middle-class 10 Muslim 12 not entitled to vote (Italy) 168 origin (rural versus urban) 174 participation in cultural initiatives (Rome) 169, 170–4, 176–7(n6–8) regularization programmes (Italy) 170 second-generation 111–12, 207, 208–9, 245 transcultural and transnational repertoires 207 see also migrants ‘immigrants’ (Slovenia) 231, 250(n10), 251(n12) immigration 6, 12, 61, 68, 76, 159 implicit construction 122 inclusion/exclusion 44, 53, 159 India 51, 95 Indian population (Paris) 114 individualism versus collectivism 173 individualization 267 individuals 150, 173, 212, 214, 217, 280 ‘atomized’ 228, 229 ‘individuation’ 279–80 Indonesia 194, 263 Infant (Novi Sad) 136 information 14, 142 transnational flows 95–8, 103(n1–3) information society 28, 90 information technology 91 infrastructure 8, 50, 95, 102, 127, 182, 194, 209 Initiative Minorities (IM) 142, 144, 145 inner cities 105 banlieues 112 see also cities Insel, A. 188–9 insiders/outsiders 20 Institut du Monde Arabe (Paris) 72, 78(n10) institutional arrangements (cultural production) 112–21, 128(n3–7)

Index institutionalization 108, 109, 147 institutions 26, 30, 31, 32, 33, 36, 54(n11), 58, 111, 159, 160, 254–5 cultural 50, 109, 117, 126, 134, 162, 164, 166, 168, 169, 218 elite 134 European 58 ‘high cultural’ 122 identity-building 38 international 49, 52 local government (Rome) 166 mainstream cultural 124 social 192 integration xi, 9, 15, 19, 43, 65, 74, 75–6, 77, 116, 176(n7), 162, 202 assimilationist approaches 7 cultural 8, 280 political 5 social 280 integrationism 189 intellectuals 137, 147, 150, 153(n10), 154(n18) cosmopolitan 272 inter-war era (1918–39) 106 intercultura (Italian, ‘multiculturalism’) 20, 176 Intercultural Mediation on Balkans (Dragićević Šešić and Dragojević, 2004) 54(n17) intergovernmentalism 187–8 International Court of Justice 71 International Monetary Fund 230 International Network of Cultural Policy (RIPC) 78(n9) international organizations and the cultural 63–4 and the social 65–8 international organizations and the social 65–8 Council of Europe 65–7 Council of Europe’s Council for Cultural Cooperation 67–8 international terrorism 10, 11, 12 internet 96, 142, 146, 168, 213, 264 Interreg 143 interviews viii, 6, 19, 73, 114–19, 123, 125, 126, 128(n8, n10), 159, 168, 169, 210–11, 251(n27) cultural policy in Berlin and Paris 130 Erick Manana 212, 213, 214, 215, 219–20 (n3–5) Iran 95, 114

301

Iraq/Iraqis 12, 95, 263 Ireland 95, 277 Iron Curtain 134 Isin, E. 86, 92 Islamic danger 137 Islamic organizations 12 Islamische Einwanderung: Die Gescheiterte Integration (Islamic Immigration: The Failed Integration) 74 Islamophobia 8 isomorphism 260, 270 Istanbul 15, 250(n4), 268, 274 Istria 47 Italians 47, 203 Italy 7, 9, 12, 51, 160–2, 169–72, 174–6, 177(n8), 237 agendas 159 fascist era 157, 176(n6) immigration laws 157–8 ‘lacks clear immigration policies’ 157 regions 9–10 ‘2% for the arts’ law 176(n6) Italy: Constitution 157 Italy: Ministry of Cultural Heritage (Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali) 176(n1) Italy: Ministry and Departments of Social Affairs 159 Janović, N. 15, 21 jargon 228, 230 Jean Monnet Fellow xii Jenkins, C. 55(n17) Jews 219(n1), 274 Johns Hopkins Comparative Nonprofit Sector Project 152(n2) Johnson, S. ii Josielle R. (Malagasy travel agent) 215–16, 217 Jospin, L. 128(n2) jus sanguinis 75 jus soli 75 kafana (live music) 153(n16) Kaleidoscope (EU cultural cooperation) 28 Kaliningrad 43, 46, 53(n2) Karleuša, J. 241, 251(n36) Kennedy comes back 142 Khan, N. 67 Kivisto, P. 202 Kiwan, D. x

302 Index Kiwan, N. x, 8, 14, 17, 18, 77(n1), 114–17, 125, 126, 128(n3, n10), 130, 166, 218 Knopp, H.G. 118–19 ‘knowledge transfer’ 16 Kommunen (city districts) 110 Konkordija (Vrsac) 136 Korea 143 Kosic, A. x, 14, 19–20, 218 Kosnick, K. xi, 14, 119, 128(n3, n8), 130, 166, 218 Kosovo/Kosovans 46, 47, 263 koultoura (Greek, ‘culture’) 6 Kovaˇciˇc, G. 250(n5) Kraków see Cracow Kraus, P.A. 183, 184–5, 187–8 Kućo moja/My house (neo-folk song) 251(n20) Kultur (high art) 6, 108, 111, 123 kulturelle Vielfalt (cultural diversity) 73 Kung Fu 98 Kurds 53(n3), 95, 96, 97, 263 Kusturica movies 142 Kymlicka, W. 273 labelling 122 Laborier, P. 107 labour ‘oppressive industrial’ 239 seasonal schemes 9 social valorization 247 labour force 205 labour laws (Austria) 9 labour market 101, 139, 158, 160, 162, 166 labour migrants 22(n3), 110, 116, 143, 153(n14), 261 labour migration 109, 111, 134 Landolt, P. 221, 282 Landry, C. 55(n17) Lane moje/My bamby (song), 250(n4) Lang, J. 38(n1) language 6, 8, 45, 46, 48, 54(n11), 60, 62, 63, 68, 70, 96, 139, 141, 158, 161, 166, 171, 172, 173, 176(n7), 194, 210, 217, 265, 267–8, 273, 277 bilingualism 21, 207, 210, 214 dialects (south-Slav) 238 linguistic localism 238 London 103(n1–2) multilingualism 21, 67, 210, 214

regional (French sub-national) 70–1 late modernity 207 latica ruze 147 Latin America 128, 160 Lavenex, S. 275 law 9, 22(n3), 135, 161, 230 learning, inter-cultural 139 Legal Instrument on Cultural Diversity 63 Leitkultur (‘leading culture’) 73, 74–7, 79(n13–16), 201 see also socio-culture ‘Leitkultur und inner Sicherheit. Zu Zuwanderung und Europäischen Werten’/Leading culture and internal security. (About migration and European values) 74 Leonardo (programme) 54(n16) Lešnik, B. 250(n5) Levinson, S.C. 60 Levitas, R. 65 Lévy, B-H. 184 ‘liberal public’ sphere (Habermas) 143 liberalization 86, 135 life-cycle 238 lifestyle 11, 69, 76, 150, 160, 210, 216–17, 224, 268 ‘bi-focal’, dual 213 cosmopolitan 215 Lille 40(n14) Lisbon 40(n14), 119 Lithuania 45, 46 Liverpool 40(n14) Ljubljana x, xi, 5, 14, 21, 142, 233, 235, 246, 251(n27) Local Cultural Strategies: Draft Guidance for Local Authorities in England (DCMS, 1999) 89 local government/local authorities 89, 90, 107, 108, 137, 174, 175, 251(n22) ‘city governments/administrations’ 93 ‘neighbourhood government’ 87 Local Government Association (LGA) 89 Locke, J. 133 London ix, xi, 5, 13–14, 15, 17–18, 21, 119, 142, 161, 164, 171, 174, 210, 268 ethnic diversity 95, 103(n1) wealth 95

Index London: Mayor 99 London: Millennium Dome 98–9 London: project of urban cosmopolitanism 85–104 changing city perspectives 91–3 changing city spaces 94–103, 103(n1–3) chapter argument 86–7 hub for transnational information and media flows and of production 95–8, 103(n1–3) new agenda 86, 87 new localism 86–7, 87–91 public scripts and institutional capacities (mindsets or policies) 94 transformative ground for world cultural events 98–9 trends 97–8 urban cosmopolitanism 87, 100–3 ‘wedge between nation and city’ 85, 86 world-openness 87, 94–103, 103(n1–3) London: Respect Festival 99 London Greek Radio 96 London Turkish Radio 96 London’s Perspective (GLA, 2003) 101, 102 Londra Toplum Postasi (newspaper) 96, 97 loyalty/loyalties 173, 184, 197, 260, 276 Luxembourg 40(n14), 67 Luxembourg: EU Council (2005) 22(n1) lyrics 212, 238 Maastricht Treaty see Treaty on European Union Macedonia 43, 44, 46, 47, 50, 54(n9), 233, 234, 235 Macedonian flag 54(n9) Macedonians 45, 47 Madagascar 143, 210–13, 215–16, 217 Madrid 35, 40(n14) Maghreb 115, 161, 169, 194, 210, 218, 263 Maghrebi community (Rome) 171 mahala-garden (neo-folk genre) 238, 251(n19)

303

Maison des Cultures du Monde (House of World Cultures, 1982–) 113–15, 116, 128(n3) mission statement (2004) 113 publicizing strategies 115 Making Citizenship Work: Fostering European Culture and Diversity for Youth, Culture, Audiovisual and Civic Participation (European Commission, 2004) 60–1 Makoni, S. xi Malagasy people 21, 212–13, 214 Mali 126 Malraux, A. 106 Mammarella 38(n1) Manana, E. (Erick M.) (Malagasy singer-songwriter) 212–15, 217, 219–20 (n3–5) Mandić, M. 147–8 Manichaean view 12 maps 46–7, 54(n6) market, the 132, 133, 140, 151, 152 market economy 19, 51, 52, 134, 148 market place 50, 51 marketing 99, 147, 148 markets 100 cultural goods 50, 55(n18) Marseilles 119 Marshall, T.H. 272 Martelli, C. 157–8 Marx, K.H. 133, 228, 248 Marxian tradition 247 Marxists 249 mass media 145–6, 173 Matarasso, F. 55(n17) material production 248, 249 Mauss, M. 228 Maussian gift 247 May 1968 movement (France) 106, 107 McGrew, A. 281 media xi, 9, 10, 43, 72, 96, 135, 145–6, 152, 153(n12, n16), 154(n18), 173, 191, 207, 261, 264 ethnic networks 15 independent 136 professionalism and diversification 97–8 transnational 13, 14, 95–8, 103(n1–3) media industry 31 media professionals viii, 6 media projects 97

304 Index médiation culturelle (cultural mediation) 107 Mediterranean 244 Medya TV 95 Meinhof, U.H. ii, viii, xi, 8, 14, 17, 18, 20–1, 77(n1), 161, 212, 213, 219–20 (n3–5), 267 melos 238 Mercouri, M. 33 methodological nationalism (Wimmer and Glick Schiller) 92, 185, 186, 187, 191, 198, 214, 259–60, 262, 272, 274, 276 metropolises 206, 207, 209 Mexico 63 Middle East 95, 244 Middle East Broadcasting Centre (MBC) 96, 97 migrant populations/migrants 4, 67, 71–2, 75–6, 98, 100–1, 116, 141, 146, 181, 184, 261, 262 first-generation 210 ‘illegal’ 21 London 95, 103(n1) multiple linkages 265–6 ‘new global’ 6–7 post-colonial 6 right to vote 138, 153(n7) theoretical approaches 200 Turkish 20, 191–2 see also immigrants migrants/non migrants 143 migration 10, 12, 46, 61, 74, 91, 118, 134, 142, 143, 152, 274 ‘circular’ 264 colonial 193–4 ‘danger’ to society 11 economic 274 ‘newer, transnational patterns’ 194–5 peripheral 226 ‘polycentric’ 160 post-colonial 194, 263 transnational 191–5, 260, 261–70 Turkish 194, 195–7 see also labour migration migration status 170 Mile Against Tradition (television serial) 150–1, 154(n20) Miller, D. 259, 268 Milošević, S. 148 minority groups 8, 52, 66, 101, 154(n18), 203 allochthonous 137

autochthonous 138 national 65 social 151 ‘minority’ issues change of approach 254–5 minority languages 55(n20) Minsk 142 Mitterrand, F. 111, 112 mobilisation positive 72 mobility 93 international mobility 50, 52 transnational 261–70 Moˇcnik, R. xi, 15, 21, 251(n15) Models for Diversity (scheme) 65 modernity 187 Modood, T. 22(n2) Moldavia 43, 44, 46 Monaco 63 Mondomix 115 monetary union 25 money 248 Monnet, J. 25, 38(n1) monopoly 225 Montenegrians 45 Moov’n Aktion (hip-hop dance association) 126 Morata, F. 39(n2) Moroccans 161, 162, 171, 172, 173, 176(n7), 203 Morocco 63, 160, 161 Moscow 142 mosques 10 most-favoured nation 229 Mouride Sufi brotherhood 162 Mozart Year (2006) 145 MTV 245, 246 multicultural society 110, 167, 174 multiculturalism 17, 19, 57–9, 73–7, 110, 117, 138, 139, 158–9, 160, 166, 169, 175, 176, 190, 208, 209, 260, 272 crisis 7–10, 13, 22(n2–3) debates and measures 8 liberal versus radical 74 literature 22(n2) perceived crisis 15 ‘picturesque’ 120 multiculturality 240 multietnicita (Italian, ‘multiculturalism’) 20, 164–5 Multikulturalismus (multiculturalism) 73 Munch, E. 153(n13) Munich 142

Index municipalities 7 Municipality of Rome (website) 168 museum curators 153(n15) museums 107, 111, 128(n2), 145, 147, 151, 165, 166 Museums of City of Vienna 142 music 51, 70, 110, 115, 143, 148, 149, 167, 172, 174, 210, 212, 213, 215, 217, 219(n3), 250(n4) Balkan 240, 243, 244 ‘choice-packages’ 244, 245 classical 98, 164 disco 241 ethno 142–3 folk 108, 206 French 126–7 Gipsy 251(n37) jazz 214, 241 new folk (fourth sector) 147, 148, 152, 153(n16) popular 119 postmigrant 125 rap 126 reception context 244–5 ‘south wind’ style 149, 153(n16) techno 241 ‘turbo-folk’ 239, 241, 242, 243, 251(n18, n24) Turkish 244 urban 126 world 13, 14, 98, 99, 100, 119, 126, 164, 170, 175, 216 music promoters 218 music recordings 19 musical instruments 165, 211 musicians 119, 125, 169, 170–1, 210, 211, 213–16, 218, 277 Azerbaidjani 250(n4) immigrant 14, 126 migrant 20, 202 postmigrant 126 transnational 14 see also ‘artists’ Muslim Television Ahmaddiya 103(n2) Muslims 9, 10, 12 Myerscough, J. 33 myth 47, 271 ‘myth of return’ 209 Nagel, C.R. 202 Nation (newspaper) 96 nation-state 6, 11, 19, 20, 24, 27, 31, 32, 46, 58, 87, 101, 134, 182, 183,

305

185–92, 196–7, 226, 229, 257, 259–60, 261–2, 265–6, 269–70, 272, 274, 278, 279 eclipsed by transnational cities 13 enlarged 4 integrity challenged 268–9 limitation 22 ‘misnomer’ 203 ‘should become more open to transnational perspective’ (Robins) 270 under threat 85–6 National Centre for Contemporary Arts (Kaliningrad branch) 53(n2) national cohesion 88, 89, 101, 260 national collective memory 47, 54(n10) national identity 25, 50, 102 French 128(n2) ‘national imaginary’ 204 National Lottery (UK) 90 national principle (Gellner) 186 National Report of Armenian Cultural Policy 48 nationalism 46, 135, 136, 141, 148, 168, 185, 197, 203, 266 cultural 271, 272 ethnic 45 ‘long distance’ 213 native argument 234 native conclusion 235 naturalization 10 Near East 226 neo-communitarianism 200, 201, 206–7, 208, 211, 216 ‘caught between two cultures’ 206 constructing the neo-communitarian 212–14, 219(n4) ‘not premised on return to motherland’ 206 ‘neo-folk’ songs 237, 238–9, 251(n18–21) ˇ genres (Colovi´ c) 238 neo-integrationism 89 neo-liberalism 4, 5, 51, 60, 90, 132, 141, 153(n12), 242 core-capitalism 250(n5) cultural 280 Netherlands 7, 8, 194, 263 cultural policies (Serbian comparison) 55(n18) EU referendum (2005) 4, 22(n1)

306 Index ‘network sociality’ (Wittel) 196, 267 network theory 204 networking 20, 35, 92, 94, 184, 195, 196, 202, 264 transurban 19, 93 networks 13–14, 28, 100, 135, 176, 194, 200, 261, 263, 264 civil sector 141 commercial 15 cultural 15, 35, 39(n11) ‘deep’ 237 ethnic 209 free organized 137 global 269 informal 147, 152 information/media 91 ‘instrumental exchanges’ (global) 136 international 118 kinship 206, 209 Malagasy 214 migrant 13, 20, 201, 202 neo-communitarian 20 personal 152 Senegalese 172–3 social 145, 203, 206 social ‘interlacing coherence’ (Elias) 192 transnational 20, 93, 102, 136, 141, 152, 153(n13), 184, 193, 196, 207–8, 209, 217 Turkish 13, 193 networks of flows 86 Neue Kronenzeitung (NKZ) 146 Neumann, I.B. 271 Neveu, C. 186, 191 New Bled Vibrations Collective 125 New Europe 53 ‘new global diaspora’ (Cohen) 264 New Labour (UK) 86–7 bottom-up approach (social and cultural cohesion) 89 cultural planning (integrationism and globalism) 89–90, 91 notion of culture 88 New Left 110 new localism 86–7, 87–91 ‘new politics of neighbourhood’ 49–50 New York 10 newspapers 146, 171, 177(n8) London 96 radical 167 Newsweek 261

nexal phenomena 233, 224 nexal processes 231 nexal registers: identity, peripheral cultural industries, and alternative cultures 21, 223–53 alternative cultures 246–9, 251–2(n27–9) identity, peripheral cultural industries, and alternative cultures 223–53 local ‘neo-folk’ to peripheral cultural industry: transformation of genres 238–9, 251(n18–21) nexus as camera obscura 239–46, 251(n22–6) peripheral cultural industries and nexus as their social support 236–7 socio-historical background 227–31, 250(n6–8) state and the attempt to reduce nexus by mechanism of identity 231–6, 250–1(n9–17) three groups of nexus-relevant cultural policy agents 223–7, 249–50(n1–5) nexal social dimension 226 nexus (concept) 7 as camera obscura 239–46, 251(n22–6) ‘cyclical TimeSpace’ 237 definition 224 operator of inversion 239 ‘structural TimeSpace’ 237 nexus aspect 21 nexus complex 225 nexus cultural material 226 nexus dimension 22 nexus flows 21 nexus phenomena 249 niches, cultural 224 Nietzsche, F.W. 279 Nigeria/Nigerians 160, 263 non-aligned movement 134 non-governmental organizations 28, 53(n2), 136, 138, 139, 140, 142, 143, 144, 147, 167 non-profit organizations 138 Nordic Council of Ministers 53(n2) North/South (global division) 229, 237 North Africa 111–12, 160, 161, 244 Northwestern Europe 43

Index Nova magazine 115 Novi Sad 136 Nugent, N. 39(n2) Nur 177(n8) Oceania 143 Odessa 54(n10) ÖKS (cultural services office, Austria) 137 Olay (newspaper) 96 oligopolies controlling global market 225 transnational cultural 223, 224f, 224, 226 On Nationality (Miller, 1995), 259 ‘one and the same community’ 59–60 ontology 188 ‘Opening Up of Cultural Institutions to New Public in Europe: Towards New Territorial Cultural Policies (symposium, Rheims, 2004) 54(n13) opera 164 opera houses 50, 108, 111, 128(n9) orchestras 109 Osama bin Laden 12 ‘Other’ 11, 12, 52, 105 Otherness 122, 123–4 Ottoman Empire 274 Pack, D. 53(n1) Pakistan 95 ‘pale screens’ (écrans pâles) 72, 78(n10–11) Panjab Radio 96 Pantel, M. 27, 29 parasitism 242f Paris 5, 14, 21, 34, 40(n14), 73, 121, 161, 164, 166, 171, 174, 210–13, 216, 218 culture budget 122, 124 cultural policy (institutional arrangements) 113–17, 128(n3–6) digital arts centre 124 FASILD 115–17, 127, 128(n4–6) international cultural centre 124 left-wing administration (2001–) 125 Maison des Cultures du Monde 113–15, 116, 128(n3) soutien à la creation (support for creation) budget 124

307

‘whiteness’ of cultural policy (Kiwan and Kosnick) 18, 105, 106, 113–17, 124–7, 128(n3–6, n9–12) Paris: Bureau de la Musique 124, 128(n10) Paris: Délégation à la Politique de la Ville et à l’Intégration 125 Paris: Direction des Affaires Culturelles 115, 128(n10) Direction Régionale des Affaires Culturelles (DRAC): Île-de-France 124–5, 128(n11) Paris: Grande Mosquée 124 Paris: fourth arrondissement 125 Paris: Integration and Culture departments 125 Paris: Mission Intégration 73 Paris: Musée d’Art Moderne 124 Paris: nineteenth arrondissement 125 Paris: Petit Palais 124 Parti Communiste Français 111 Parti Socialiste (PS), France 111–12 participant observation 211 ‘partisan movies’ (Yugoslavia) 135 PashaLife 98 Passi (Congolese-origin rapper) 126 passports 27 paternalism 160, 163, 165, 169, 175 Patras 40(n14) patronization 16, 50 Pejović, K. 47 pension reform 228, 229 people’s Europe 26, 27 peripheral cultural industries local ‘neo-folk’ 238–9, 251(n18–21) and nexus as their social support 236–7 subaltern profit-oriented 242 transformation of genres 238–9, 251(n18–21) Perraton, J. 281 personal connections 246–7 Petrarchism 238 PHARE programme 50 Philippines 160, 263 Phoenix Chinese News and Entertainment (PCNE) 96, 103(n2) Pilcher, J. x Plan de Cohesion Sociale (France, 2004) 72 planned economy 134

308 Index PLS Ramboll Management 39(n8) pluralism market 47 ownership 47 political 47 Podgorica 136, 142 poetry 165 Poirrier, P. 77(n1) Poland 35, 46 Pole, C. x policy of exclusion 46 policy-makers viii, 52, 58, 73, 77, 93, 122, 163, 175, 192 policy-making 59, 108, 109, 225 anthropology of 7 cultural 44 political culture ‘denationalisation’ (Kraus) 185 political parties 213, 230 centre-left 176(n2) extreme right-wing 10 left-wing 4–5, 107, 108, 140, 168 right-wing 141, 153(n7, n11), 168 totalitarian 230 politics 11, 14, 185, 204, 276 Austrian 138 cosmopolitan 87 cultural 127 ethnic identity 110 left-wing 167, 268 nation-state versus global city 87 right-wing 268 politics of recognition 272 politique de la ville (urban regeneration policy) 127 volet culturel (cultural dimension) 107 politismos (Greek, ‘civilization’) 6 populist movements 47 Porta Portese 177(n8) Portes, A. 207, 264, 267 Portes, A., et al. (1999) 206, 221, 265, 282 Guarnizo, L.E. 221, 282 Landolt, P. 221, 282 Porto (Oporto) 40(n14) Portugal 55(n19), 277 positive discrimination 72 post-Cold War era 11 post-colonial era 186 post-colonial population 194, 263 post-industrial migration phenomena 205 post-migrants 77, 107, 112, 113, 118

post-modernity 207 post-nationalism 190 post-socialist countries 225 post-war era (1945–) 45, 53, 57, 106, 111, 134, 136, 157, 193, 205, 254–5 Poujol, G. 106 poverty 102 power 47, 185 Prague 40(n14), 277 press xi, 22(n1) Pries, L. 192–3, 197 print media 96, 97 private property 147 private sector 18–19, 47, 135, 149 ‘second sector’ 151 privatization pension systems 228 Prodi, R. 187 production, transnational 95–8, 103(n1–3) productive competence 243 professionalization 107 Project Support in Area of Cultural Activities of Citizens of Foreign Descent (Projektförderung im Bereich der kulturellen Aktivitäten von Bürgerinnen/Bürgern Ausländischer Herkunft) 122–3, 123, 127 projet pédagogique 116 Promoting Diversity (European Commission) 65 promotion 72 protest 153(n6), 154(n19), 213 Protocollo d’intesa ‘Il Patto d’integrazione: indicazioni e occasioni per una multietnicità sostenibile’ 165 Province of Rome 167 public administration 145 Public Culture (journal) 85 public library 145 public opinion 77 public order 157 public ownership 47 public policy 21, 152, 158 public sector 18–19, 50, 52, 55(n18), 72, 135, 149, 151 public–private partnerships 163 publishing 70, 167, 177(n8) Pula 142 Puls’art (association) 116 Putz, R. 196

Index Q-News 96 Qatar 97 quality of life 196 quartiers sensibles/difficiles Quataert, D. 274

107, 112

race 116, 122, 167, 273 racism 9, 21, 108, 122, 139 Radić, I. 251(n19) radio 96, 115 ‘Radio B92’ 136 Radio France Culture 115 Radio Sabac 149 radio stations 103(n3), 135, 139, 142, 146, 153(n8), 167 analogue and digital 96 ethnic-community 96 pirate 51 Radio Studio B (Yugoslavia) 134 Raffarin government (France, 2002–5) 72, 78(n10) Ramadan 165 Raphael (EU cultural heritage) 28 Ratno ostrvo (river island, Belgrade) 154(n19) Ražnatović, C. 251(n30) ‘real Europe’ (Beck) 272 realities contemporary 279–80 cultural 5 empirical 272 European 272 social 260 TimeSpace 237 urban 15 reality construction 37–8 record companies 15, 126 refugees 46, 103(n1), 135, 149, 154(n18), 162, 274 reggae 243 regions 7, 44, 58 reification theory 247, 248, 249 religion 14, 48, 158, 159, 160, 165, 166, 171, 196, 229, 267 religious freedom 10 religious symbols 9 remittances 12, 15, 204 Renaissance 34, 250(n17) Rencontres de la Villette (festival, Paris) 116, 126, 128(n12) Report on Preserving and Promoting Cultural Diversity (2003) 62 Réseau International sur la Politique Culturelle (RIPC) 78(n9)

309

‘resistance against blue/black’ (Austria) 141, 153(n11) restaurants 149, 153(n16), 170 Rex centre 136, 153(n6) Reykjavik 36, 40(n14) Rheims 54(n13) Richardson, K. ii, xi ‘right to culture’ 272 right-wing movements 47 rights 8, 10, 225 Rijeka 142 Robins, K. ix, xi–xii, 22 Rocard, M. 62 Roche, M. 192 Rojbas (Kurdish-language radio programme) 96 Roma [gipsies] 138 Roma incontra il mondo (festival ‘Rome meets the world’) 164, 176(n3) Romania 5, 44, 275 Rome x, xii, 5, 14–15, 19–20, 21, 210, 218, 277 ‘acquaintances’ needed 169, 175 cosmopolitan image 166, 176 cultural diversity agenda 162–6, 176(n1–5) educazione alla mondialità 166 immigration in Rome 160–2 urban cultural policy and immigrants 157–78 Rome: Centralized Special Immigration Office (1993–) 162, 176(n4) ‘Rome: City of Peace’ (project) 165 Rome: Councillor for Multiethnic Affairs (Consigliera Delegata del Sindaco alle Politiche della Multietnicità) 164–5 Rome: Department of Social Affairs 163 Rome: Municipality 160, 162 Rome: Office for Multiethnic Affairs 164–5, 176(n4) Rose of Wandering (Mandić) fourth-sector project 147 Rotterdam 40(n14) Rougemont, D. de 39(n3) Rowthorn, B. 268–9, 270 Rudnik (mountain) 153(n13) rule of law 61 Runnymede Trust 8 rural areas 134, 138, 171, 174 Russia 44, 46, 95, 263, 274, 277

310 Index rustic songs (neo-folk genre) 238 Rutelli, F. (Mayor of Rome, 1993–2001) 162, 164, 176(n2) Saddam Hussein 12 Saez, J.-P. 54(n12) Salamanca 40(n14) Samedov, A. 250(n4) Santiago de Compostela 40(n14) Sarajevo 142, 153(n5) Sassatelli, M. xii, 16, 189 Sassen, S. 86, 91 satellite broadcasting/television 51, 95, 96, 174, 264, 277 Sava River 153(n13) Schengen agreement 47, 161 Schiffauer, W. 9 Schmitt, C. 232 Schönbohm, J. 75 schools 8, 55(n20), 76, 176(n6) Scream (Munch) 153(n13) security 50, 52, 63, 74, 182 self-censorship 152(n3) self-confidence 50, 51 self-organization 150, 152 semantic fields (France and Germany): from European to national and metropolitan levels 68–77, 77–9(n1–16) concluding remarks 77 extracts from the Leitkultur debate 74–7, 79(n13–16) France and Germany 68–73, 77–8(n1–12) Germany 73–4 metropolitan level 73 Sen gelmez oldun (song) 250(n4) Senegal 63, 126, 160, 161–2, 169, 175, 210, 218 Senegalese 161–2, 171, 172–3, 175 sensibilisation du public français 117 Serbia 14, 46, 134, 137, 147, 148–9, 150, 153(n13, n16), 275 cultural policies (comparison with Netherlands) 55(n18) liberal movement (1972–3) 152(n3) peasant culture 150 Serbia and Montenegro 44, 136, 250(n4) Serbianhood 136 Serbians 45, 47, 150 Severina (pop-singer) 241, 251(n23) sexual orientation 65, 255, 273

shadow/grey economy 10, 148, 149 ‘informal labour market’ 160 Shanghai 78(n9) Shaw, J. 187 Shore, C. 38(n1), 58, 64, 185–6, 189–90 Siberia 142 Sibiu 36, 40(n14) Sicily 161 Signs of Culture 135 Sikhs 165 Simonot, M. 106 skills 102, 265 Skopje 142 SKY World 95 Sloterdijk, P. 277 Slovakia/Slovaks 138, 275 Slovenes 138 Slovenia xi, 9, 44, 47, 231, 235, 250(n9–10), 275 Slovenia: Constitutional Court 250(n11) Smith, C. 88 Smith, I. 104 Smith, J. ii, xi social agenda (Italy) 159 social capital 14, 20, 173, 195, 200–2, 209, 213, 214, 217, 267 surplus 245 social cohesion 12, 28, 63, 65, 73, 87, 88, 94, 107, 108, 229–30 social contract theorists 133 Social Democrats (Austria) 134, 137, 138 social exclusion 102, 108, 110, 167, 171, 174, 231 social inclusion 49, 65, 88, 101, 102, 255 social integration 107, 191, 260 social market economy 19, 134 social relation 228 social science/scientists 92, 228 ‘looking through national spectacles’ (Robins) 259–60 social skills 209 social space de-coupled from geographic space 192–3 transnational 269 transnationalization 193 social status 153(n16), 265 socialisation 192 socialism/socialists 50, 157, 248, 250(n5)

Index ‘socialistic inventions’ 136 sociality 13–14, 184, 185, 192, 196–7, 226, 245, 266 alternative kind 267 commodified 228 excess 232 socialization 196, 226, 227 societies agrarian and developing 206 European 254 ‘society of spectacle’ 247, 248 Society of Spectacle of Guy Debord 153(n13) socio-culture x, 13, 18, 21, 105–9, 111–13, 116, 120–1, 122, 127, 132, 139, 166, 175, 210, 218, 226, 239, 240, 244, 245, 251(n26) see also culture socio-economic status 110, 173, 174 sociological perspectives 15 sociology of reception 237 Sofia 142, 274 solidarity 162, 168 solidarity networks 231, 251(n12) Solo (Malagasy musician) 213, 214 Somalis 263 song see ‘neo-folk’ songs song-writing 212, 219(n3) Sony Entertainment TV 96 South America 51 South Asia 194, 263 South-Eastern Europe ix, 43, 44, 45, 49, 50–1, 52, 203, 226 Southern Europe 4, 16, 157, 226 sovereignty 188, 231, 251(n14) cultural 278 national 25, 30, 50, 85–6, 89, 103, 258, 261 ‘strict Schmittian sense’ 232 Soviet bloc/Eastern bloc 11, 44, 45, 134, 150 Soviet Union 35, 53(n4), 194, 203, 265 Soysal, Y.N. 190 Soziokultur 108, 109, 110 space compression 207 cultural 3, 4, 29–33, 39(n11), 145, 256, 278–9 European 261–2, 277 geographic 192–3 geopolitical 237 social 192–3, 269

311

transnational and transcultural 198 world-systemic 237 Spain 12, 55(n19), 250(n4) Spectrum International Radio 96 Split 251(n23) sponsorship 163–4, 170, 177(n8) squat scene 246 Staatsangehörigkeitsrecht (Citizenship Law, 2000) 75 state, the 50, 69, 139–41, 145, 151, 152, 152(n3), 240, 260 and attempt to reduce nexus by mechanism of identity 231–6, 250–1(n9–17) capitalist 133 contemporary 233 fascist 230 Foucault’s analysis 133 French 191 identitary 235 ideological apparatuses 240, 242 mono-ethnic 234, 235 retreat 132 state intervention 225 state sovereignty 70, 71 state violence 231, 233, 250(n11) statization/étatisation (Foucault) 133 Stavanger 36, 40(n14) stereotypes 16, 53 Stockholm 35, 40(n14) Stockholm: UNESCO Conference (1998) 70 Stolcke, V. 188 Stratton-Smith, R. 89 Strengthening of Community Action in Cultural Sector (CEC, 1982) 27 structuralism 247 student cultural centres 152(n4) students 154(n18) Styria 138 sub-cultures 11 sub-Saharan Africa 160, 161 ‘subaltern counter-public’ (Fraser) 143 subsistence 164, 170, 171, 173 subversion 140, 150, 151, 152, 243 suffrage 9–10 Sunrise Radio 96, 103(n3) supranationalism 187–8, 189 Sustainable Communities: People, Places, and Prosperity (ODPM, 2005) 88, 89, 91 Svet (magazine) 250(n4)

312 Index Svetlogorsk 53(n2) Sweden 8, 35, 277 Switzerland 67 symbols 142 syncretism 240, 244, 245 ‘produced a new genre’ 243 Syria 74, 95, 114, 274 Tahijev, E. 250(n4) Taliban 12 Tamils 263 Tasca, C. 68, 69–70, 78(n3–4) tax 148, 213 Taylor, C. 182 technocrats 26, 33 technological determinism 202 technology 142, 207, 209, 213, 226, 264 telecommunications 194, 213 telenovelas (Latin American ‘soap operas’) 51 television ix, 70, 72, 95, 103(n2), 115, 135, 150, 192 cable 95 pirate 51 transnational 197 ‘television without frontiers’ 3 Tempus (programme), 54(n16) territoriality 185 territory 7, 48 imaginary ‘national’ 43–4 ‘lost’ 47 national 46 ‘territory’ (word) 54(n12) Tetovaža/Tattoo (video) 251(n19) Thailand 114 Thames River 99 theatre (art-form) 116, 126, 153(n6, n13) theatres (buildings) 107, 108, 109, 111, 123, 128(n9), 166, 167, 170, 277 ‘Their History is our History’ (slogan), 128(n2) Therborn, G. 261, 269 Thessaloniki (Salonika) 40(n14) third sector 19, 152, 158, 160, 175 database 152(n2) definition 132, 153(n12) ‘non-commercial, non-governmental’ 131 theory 132–3, 152(n1–2) urban strategies 166–9

Third Sector European Policy (TSEP) website 152(n1) third-sector practice in city cultures 134–40, 152–3(n3–9) Belgrade: countering identity policies (1970–2000) 134–7, 152–3(n3–6) Vienna: from ‘culture for all’ to diversity activities of third sector (1970–2000) 137–40, 153(n7–9) third-sector transformation: and emerging fourth-sector practices 140–51, 153–4 (n10–20) Belgrade: DIY cultural activity to TV serial Mile Against Tradition 147–51, 153–4(n16–20) Vienna case studies: ‘gastarbajteri’ and fourth-sector practices of EMAP radio 142–6, 153(n14–15) Thrace 274 Thrift, N. 92 Tibi, B. 74–5 time 37, 63, 245, 254, 266, 273, 275 compression 207 episodic 237 structural 237 TimeSpace realities 237 Tindemans Report (1975) 26, 39(n3) Toplum (newspaper) 96 topos 234, 235f, 236, 251(n16–17) Toronto 119 totalitarianism 230 Toubon, J. 78(n12) ‘touch of stateness’ (Shaw and Wiener) 187 tourism xii, 33, 49–50, 161, 192, 195, 216 tourists 92, 143 Toynbee, P. 181, 182 Touraine, A. 279–80 trafficking 277 trafo.k (professional agency) 145 training 159, 162, 166 transcultural capital (Meinhof and Triandafyllidou) 14, 20–1, 201–2, 209, 214 implication for cultural policy 216–18

Index transcultural diversity 270–5 and European public culture 276–8 positive aspects 277 transcultural Europe book aims 5–6 book structure 15–16 ‘central premise’ 13 conventional approaches 6 crisis of multiculturalism 7–10, 22(n2–3) European cities and transnational spaces 13–15 ‘fresh look into urban realities’ 15 national limitations 6 national objectives ‘no longer natural priority’ 3 overview of issues 1–81 ‘security first’ 10–13, 22(n2) transnational and transcultural connections 16, 20–2, 179–283 urban and metropolitan perspectives 15–20, 83–178 see also Europe transcultural mixtures 89 transculturalism 192, 274–5 transculturality 240 Transeuropéennes (Paris) 47 transitional societies 132 translation logic 100 ‘transnational communities’ (Portes) 264 transnational connectivity 264 transnational migrations/transnational Europe 191–5 transnational mobilities and migrations 261–70 transnational networks case-studies 20–1, 181–222 transnational practices 209–16, 219–20(n3–5) constructing the cosmopolitan 200–1, 214–16, 219–20(n5) constructing the diasporic 200, 211–12, 219(n3) constructing the neo-communitarian 200, 212–14, 219(n4) transnational spaces 270–5 European cities 13–15 ‘opportunity rather than threat’ 13

313

transnational and transcultural connections 16, 20–2, 179–283 beyond the diaspora: transnational practices as transcultural capital 200–22 Europe: challenge of migrant transnationalism 181–99 European cosmopolitanism (towards a transcultural policy) 254–83 identity, peripheral cultural industries, and alternative cultures (nexal registers) 223–53 transnationalism 14, 20, 100, 189, 209, 210, 276 European 185 political 204 Turkish migrant 191 transnationalism: analysis 202–9, 219(n1–2) cosmopolitanism theories 207–9 diaspora theories 203–6, 219(n1–2) neo communitarianism 206–7 sociocultural aspects 206 transnationality 143 transnationalization 196 transportation 171–2 Traoré, R. 126 Trautman, C. 68, 69, 77(n1–2) Travers, T. 87, 90–1 Treaty on European Union (TEU, Maastricht) 26–9, 39(n6, n13), 58 Triandafyllidou, A. ii, viii, xii, 14, 19–20, 20–1, 22(n2), 161, 218, 267 Trofrtaljka, M. 154(n17) Tunisia 160, 161 Tunisians 161, 162, 171, 172, 173 turbo folk 153(n16) folk-core ‘a myth’ 244 ‘opium for people’ 243 Turco-Napolitano Law (No 40/1998) 158 Turkey 4, 5, 38, 44, 47, 119, 142, 143, 194–6, 237, 265, 277 potential membership of EU 188–9 television stations 95

314 Index Turkish nexus 21 Turks ix, 97, 123, 203, 263, 268, 274 Ukraine 44, 46, 275 unanimity rule 27 unemployment 5, 108, 111, 204 United Kingdom 7, 10, 57, 62, 64, 67, 73, 77, 85, 95, 97, 103(n1, n3), 194, 263 ‘community of communities’ 8 cultural policy 88 problems of democracy 87 United Kingdom: Department of Culture, Media, Sport (DCMS) 89, 90 United Kingdom: DETR (Department of Environment, Transport, and Regions) 90 United Kingdom: Office of Deputy Prime Minister 87–8, 89, 91 United Nations 134 UNESCO x, 63, 70 UNESCO: Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity 62–3, 70 United States of America 5, 8, 51, 122, 132, 216, 268 cultural hegemony 62, 63 cultural imperialism 31 ‘unity in diversity’ principle 3, 29, 31–2, 32–3, 38, 61, 70 universalism 168 universities ix–xii university exchange programmes 27 University of Göttingen 74 University of Southampton iii, x, xi universality 231–2, 233 Unsicherheit (Bauman) 183 urban cosmopolitanism (London) 85–104 urban cultural policy and immigrants in Rome: multiculturalism or simply ‘paternalism’ 157–78 ‘bottom-up approach’ 159, 160 chapter content 159–60 chapter focus 159 conclusion 174–6 cultural diversity and urban strategies of third sector 166–9

immigrant participation in cultural initiatives 170–4, 176–7(n6–8) immigration in Rome 160–2 implementation of cultural diversity agenda 162–6, 176(n1–5) top-down perspective 175 urban and metropolitan perspectives 15–20, 83–178 London: project of urban cosmopolitanism 85–104 Paris and Berlin: ‘whiteness’ of cultural policy in 105–30 Rome: urban cultural policy and immigrants (multiculturalism or ‘paternalism’) 157–78 Vienna and Belgrade: third- and fourth-sector practices and strategies 131–56 urban regeneration 16, 35–6 urban strategies of third sector 166–9 urbanism 18, 92 Urry, J. 92 utilitarianism 102 values 149, 152, 181, 182, 279 Christian 75 European 74 Veljkovic’s Pavilion 153(n6) Veltroni, W. (Mayor of Rome, 2001–) 164 Verdery, K. 258 Verfassungspatriotismus (loyalty to constitution) 75 Verfremdungseffekt 246 Vergina archaeological site 54(n9) Vertovec, S. 202–3, 204 video 19, 238, 251(n19–21) Vienna 5, 9, 14, 15, 18–19, 21, 141, 149, 152 case studies (‘gastarbajteri’ and fourth-sector practices of EMAP radio) 142–6, 151, 153(n14–15) from ‘culture for all’ to diversity activities of third sector (1970–2000) 137–40, 153(n7–9) empirical case-study 131 ‘multicultural’ 146, 153(n15) museums 142, 144, 145 Vienna University: Department for Musicology 142

Index Vietnam 106, 115 Vilaggio Globale (Global Village) 167 visas 44, 45, 46, 52, 161, 169 Volk 257 Volkshochschulen (adult education centres) 110 Vrsac 136 Vukovar 153(n5) websites 17, 22(n1), 23, 41, 48, 53(n4), 55(n18, n20), 55, 56, 78(n5, n7), 80, 81, 103, 104, 153(n9), 154 cultural policy in Berlin and Paris 130 EU 39(n7) Hauptstadtkulturvertag (Capital City Culture Contract, 2005) 109 Municipality of Rome 168 Paris culture budget 124 Third Sector European Policy (TSEP) 152(n1) urban cultural policy and immigrants in Rome 177 Weeping Meadow (Angelopoulos film, 2004) 54(n10) Weimar 35, 40(n14) ‘Welcoming culture, culture of welcome’ (L’accoglienza della cultura, la cultura dell’accoglienza) 165 welfare state 5, 11, 132, 137, 229 Welsh (people) 58–9 Wertebeliebigkeit (relativization of values) 75 West, the 11, 118, 134, 150, 237 West Africa 194, 263 Western Europe 4, 7, 16, 47, 50–1, 51–2, 195, 254, 273–5 immigration (post-1945 dynamics) 193–4 Western Union 177(n8) ‘Westphalians’ 184, 185, 188, 189 Wiener, A. 187

315

Wiener Wahlpartie 153(n10) Williams, J. x Wimmer, A. 186, 276 Wittel, A. 266–7 Wolof community 162, 171, 210 women 96, 153(n14) ‘Women Activists are Crossing Borders’ (project) 47 word of mouth 147, 149 work permits 164, 170 works of art 176(n6) World Bank 230 world cultural events 98–9 world market 224, 229 World Trade Organization 60, 69, 77(n1), 227, 230 world-cityness 93, 94 world-openness 91 Berlin 117 London 18, 94–103, 103(n1–3) xenophobia 9, 53, 136 Xhaferi, A. 233 youth 108, 135, 136, 161 youth houses 152(n4) youth press (Yugoslavia) 134 Yugoslavia (‘former Yugoslavia’; ‘SFRY’) 9, 14–15, 19, 44, 47, 53(n4), 134, 153(n14), 237, 250(n9–10), 251(n14, n23) international isolation 136 split 135 war 135 Yugoslavs 45, 203 Zapata-Barrero, R. 22(n2) Zarina Khan (theatre company) 116 Zee TV 96, 278 Zilnik, Z. 142 Zuwanderungsgesetz (Migration Law, 2004) 75 Zuwanderungsland (country of migration) 73

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